Give Me Your Riches
by littlestrick
Summary: In a universe where magic is almost mundane, how can you know for certain the identity of those you love? Mostly cannon AU, Cedfia. Angst, perspectives on good and evil, romance. Currently M for themes, not for lemons. 2/9/19 Expect slow updates. Will not abandon!
1. Chapter 1: Preface

Give Me Your Riches: Chapter One - Preface

Roland's sweat was cool against his brow as he worked, slapping mortar against stone. His breath fogged the chill night air as he exerted himself, lifting each heavy stone to barricade the broken gate. He worked silently. The stars above were his only light in the rustling din of the Royal Gardens. No one could see him. No one could hear him. Kings have no need to skulk, but King Roland II was no ordinary king.

" _No one can use this again. It's too dangerous. I have to protect them, just as I did before,"_ Roland thought as he lost himself in his work. His thoughts paused briefly, allowing space for his conscience to offer opposition. Roland shushed it internally, banished it back to the recesses of his mind as he repeated his silent mantra in his mind: " _I am a good king...I am a good king...I am a good king…"_

Throughout the night, the _slap schhhhhuck_ of spreading mortar continued in a dull rhythm, accented by the soft pound of stone stacking atop stone. His job finished as dawn began to lighten the sky. Roland left the site, skirting the shadows as he tried to enter the palace without notice. He had taken too long. The darkness of night was too-quickly retreating and the kitchens were roaring to life. He would have excuses to make to Miranda for the sweat dried on his brow and grit buried into his nails, but that didn't matter. It was done. He had done what he should have done years ago. Now, they would be safe.

"I am a good king…"

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 **A/N: I do not own Sofia the First or any of its properties. Story rated M to fully explore all avenues without reservations. I will not preface language or darker themes. I will, however, leave a note at the BOTTOM of the chapter (so as to not spoil anything) should something sexual be in store. If that's something you're trying to avoid, scroll down and check the A/N before reading a chapter.**

 **Revised: 6/29/17**


	2. Chapter 2

Give Me Your Riches: Chapter Two

Ten years hadn't done much to change the bones of the tower. Inside, it had grown into a tidier, broodier place as its inhabitant had grown into a composed, powerful man. After years of reflection, Cedric "the Sensational" determined that he had risen to his appointment as Royal Sorcerer of Enchancia too early in his career. His father had been anxious to retire with the death of Roland the First. This happened to coincide with Cedric's graduation from Hexley Hall. In a desperate attempt to please his ever-unsatisfied father, Cedric had leapt at the opportunity to try something to gain him elusive paternal favor. It didn't work.

Instead, Cedric fought through years of bumbling his spells in front of any audience, all while simultaneously trying to find his place in the world from within an isolated tower. The constant dismissal that Cedric endured, admittedly due to his own deficiencies towards authority figures, allowed him ample free time. After his last botched attempt at taking over Enchancia, he refocused his efforts on his personal endeavors. Cedric the Great died that night and Cedric the Sensational fully took his place. He studied in his home and out on short sojourns to gain power and knowledge that he would have sought on his own around the world, had he not been anchored to his position immediately after graduation. Cedric never had the opportunity to define himself outside of the parameters and expectations set by his parents, his school, or his kingdom. It left a sour, resentful taste in his mouth.

Cedric had gained the title of Potion Master at a prodigious age. It was the one and only activity he seemed able to dedicate true patience to. His expertise led him to be a guest lecturer at Hexley Hall often. Through initial requests, accompanied by thorough follow-through driven by a desire to only need to do the work once and the debt to the House of Winslow that he had made for himself, Cedric had used spells and potions to drive hunger from Enchancia and bolster defenses. His effort made the kingdom nearly impenetrable to starvation or war. That gained him a notoriety throughout the kingdom that was surprisingly respectful and not entirely unwelcome. That work combined with several scattered occasions of, begrudgingly, saving various royal family members, Cedric had grown to be not only recognizable but sought after. Celebrity was the word for it and it had its perks, but it was mostly an empty feeling. The notoriety along with Cedric's strength and power finally quelled his father's unending deluge of disappointment. There wasn't any kind of announcement or congratulations; his father simply stopped demoralizing Cedric one day. It wasn't as much of a relief as Cedric had hoped it would be.

Cedric's quest for power felt unending and hollow, no matter what avenue he chased. Ever since he ceased his pursuit of the throne, there had been an empty feeling around his efforts. He did let certain opportunities pass, usually ones that would take him from his post for too long. For, regardless of how alone he liked to picture himself, he never truly was alone. There was, and seemed there always would be, Sofia in his life.

Sofia had grown from a slip of a girl who couldn't pronounce his name correctly into a sorceress of significant prowess and confidence. Amber decided to continue on the main, ruling preparedness track of study at Royal Preparatory Academy. James deviated to an education based with the knights of the realm. But Sofia had become his. Well not _his_. But she _had_ followed a natural gift, and undoubtedly Cedric's powerful example, to study sorcerery. She was his apprentice, though only in a part-time capacity so as to continue her responsibilities as a Royal. She had grown into someone he could share theories with, engineer potions with, and (perhaps the greatest accomplishment for the tittering girl she had been) share silence with. Sofia reminded him to eat. Sofia helped him develop an organizational system for his supplies that he could actually stick to. Sofia challenged him to know more and do better. Sofia was the constant in his life, endearing herself to him in a way no other person could.

Still, accolades and admiration from a wide variety of sources, Sofia included, had done nothing to sate Cedric's quest for power. With the Amulet of Avalor no longer an option, he devoted himself to research on other solutions. He would occasionally seek them out in the world but always returned to his tower, often with quest complete but lust unfulfilled. Something within him haunted his every step in his now-familiar home. The one thing Cedric knew above anything else was that he was meant for something greater than the mundane life he trudged through. The longing was never something on the forefront of his thoughts; it dwelled below, at the bottom of a deep pool filled with murky waters. The mystery of what dwelled below is what drove him ever forward on his search. After over a decade of dedication, he and his power became nearly as much of a crown jewel to Enchancia as the royal children were.

This morning was not especially different from any other. Daylight streamed into the tower from the upper windows, brightening the the walls laden with bookshelves. The light scattered through hazy smoke streaming from a cauldron on the work desk. The air swirled with the leftover scents of honeysuckle and pine from last night's concoction. The fireplace Cedric sat beside was cold, but the sharp, acrid aroma from fires past was well settled into the chairs surrounding it. Cedric was researching, as he ever was. A heavy tome in his hands, he reclined in a thickly stuffed armchair, occasionally brushing long strands of hair out of his eyes. He liked his hair at his shoulders, try though his mother might to convince him otherwise. He thought it made the contrasting shades of gray and black seem less overt and more purposeful; the coloring was an inherited trait he wouldn't waste the magic on altering it every day. Cedric refused to get it cut. It wasn't the trending style, but it suited him, and when had he ever been one to follow trends? One brush of the hair too many this morning, however, and he bitingly considered chopping it off completely. With a quick flick of Cedric's wrist, the hair was neatly wrapped back in a tie at the nape of his neck, forgotten.

The clock chimed the hour and Cedric looked up, surprised to find it to be as late as it was. He unceremoniously dumped the book on a second chair and walked across the room to don his sorcerer's robes, dark maroon today. With his wand in a concealed pocket, Cedric, in a practiced pattern, waved a hand to serve some seed to Wormwood before waving the other to open the door and walk out. Yes, he certainly didn't _need_ to use magic, especially wandless magic, to perform such mundane tasks. But even performing little tasks like these gave Cedric a touch of thrill. Very few other magic users in the world could do what he did without a magic conduit like a wand. The clock chimed again and Cedric picked up his pace, hearing the door close behind him. Sofia would find a way to hold the tardiness against him if he was late.

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Sofia had always considered herself a morning person but recently the late morning sun seemed far too bright to be allowed. A year out of school, her schedule no longer centered around Royal Prep classes. Instead, she was occasionally obligated to help with tasks for the kingdom but mostly she was bound to the whims of Cedric, his instruction, and his potion making. It called for the darkness of night more often than the brightness of morning. Last night required not only the witching hour, but three additional hours past it. Sofia blinked weary eyes in the mid-morning sunlight but continued on her task. Potion stores wouldn't refill themselves. As tedious, and poorly timed, as the work could be, Sofia was grateful for it. Her father wasn't stepping down from the throne anytime soon, which left Sofia and her siblings to venture into adulthood at their own pace and by the avenues of their choice.

Ten years had blossomed Sofia from girl to woman. She had departed from her obsession, but retained her affection, for lavender several years prior. Today she wore a burnt umber gown that equally complimented her auburn hair, tied back in a practical plait for the tasks of the day, and the tips of the leaves changing for the coming season around her. The skirt was full enough to accent her slim waist without being difficult to move in. She appreciated the way the square neck brought attention to her bust without revealing any salacious skin. Sofia was calculating in her conservative choices, never openly showing what she could simply allude to. Her beauty was a humble, natural one with no extraneous embellishments.

Her head was unadorned. Sofia had carefully placed her tiara in the bottom of her gathering basket. When doing sorcery work, she found that she didn't care to be a Princess. As she grew from girl to woman, she often found people no longer admired her plucky, can-do attitude and instead wrote her off, underestimating her skill or knowledge. More often, people only saw a pretty face adorned with pretty jewels. There was an advantage to that, but not when it was just her and Cedric at work. He valued her as a person first, seeing straight to the essence of her inner self. Some days, it seemed like he was the only one who could.

The only jewel she wore today was the Amulet of Avalor, which weighed heavier around her neck than it typically did. The conclusion to her time with the treasure must be coming soon, just as it had arrived for her Aunt Tilly. Sofia didn't relish that thought, but now she better understood the nature of magic and how small a role she played in the life of the Amulet.

There was a rustle of fabric in the near distance, interrupting her dour train of thought. Sofia peered around the bush she was crouched behind and allowed herself a smirk. Cedric couldn't find her, allowing her a rare opportunity to watch him unknown. He had grown so powerful and so aware of her that she could never surprise him anymore. His door often opened for her before she reached the top of the staircase in his tower. And yet she would walk in to find him completely engrossed in a task, seemingly unaware of her presence. It made her feel important that someone like him would know her so well that he could predict her next move. Cedric no longer walked with a self-depreciating hunch. His posture was straight-backed and proud. Even when relaxed, he looked as though he'd be ready to combat against any disturbance. Sofia had always been confident in his skills, but with these gradual changes in him, now everyone else was too. He branched out more in his sorcerer's robes though he was always drawn to darker colors and always paired it with a yellow tie that, Sofia only recently noticed, matched the one her dad wore. What he wore under his robes seemed not to change - dark pants, white shirt, dark vest. He wore fingerless gloves every day. Sofia initially wrote them off as something to combat his living in a rather drafty tower. But a mistake (of hers) nearly two years ago had him ripping off the gloves, revealing intricate tattoos across his hands. They never extended beyond the second knucklebone, allowing the gloves to aptly hide the black designs. This fascinated Sofia and she spent the better part of three weeks trying to get him to reveal their exact purpose. Cedric didn't crack under her pestering and the thought of his inky fingers continued to taunt Sofia's curiosity. She often found herself wondering how far up his hands the tattoos continued. Up his arms? His shoulders? His chest?

Sofia felt the pressure of her teeth against her lower lip and started to blush, releasing her lip. That wasn't the first time her imagination had gotten the better of her when thinking about her teacher, her friend. He was stern but surprisingly soft. Uncompromising and encouraging. And incredibly generous with his time and knowledge, with her at least. Sofia knew she saw a side of him that few did, but few took the time to know and care for Cedric as she did. He noticed her efforts and validated her, in his way, without an agenda. Sofia felt strengthened just by being near Cedric, though it was an intangible darkness from him that lent her that strength. She'd be lying if she said it didn't draw her to him, leaving her thinking about him when they were apart, barely able to contain her anticipation towards their next meeting.

"Sofia?" Was he calling her? How many times had he called her? Caught up in her own thoughts, Sofia barely registered the sound of his voice cutting through the crisp autumn air. She scrambled to her feet, scooping her basket around one arm and waving the other in his direction.

"Here, Master Cedric!" She smiled at him brightly.

"Ah, Sofia, there you are." Cedric's tone carried his usual aloof posturing. He ignored her Princess honorific. The role of Student and Master superseded titles, though it still made the servants blush to hear it, or rather _not_ to hear it. Cedric was incredibly adept, however, at remembering when they were no longer in Master-Student circumstances and applying her Princess title appropriately. Sofia wished he wasn't so good at remembering it: she liked hearing him call her Sofia. Just Sofia. "Are you ready?"

"Yes. I checked the stores last night and noticed you were also low on rose hips. I was just now gathering them." She indicated her partially full basket. "We also need weevil paste, wasp stings, and newt tails."

"Very industrious, my apprentice." Cedric's hint of a smile alongside his approval made Sofia feel flush with pride. "Well done. Off we go, then."

The pair walked congenially side by side to the small castle village. The walk was familiar to them. They had made it together every two weeks for the past two years with rare exception. There was never any need to take a carriage, not when the walk included easy conversation, as it always did.

"Counter Hexes." Sofia offered as they started off.

"What of them?" The distance in Cedric's tone dwindled as he relaxed with the castle gardens out of sight.

"I haven't cast a single one successfully. I've been trying for weeks!"

Cedric chuckled lightly. "These things take more than weeks, Sofia. You know that."

"Yes, but I at least made progress over weeks with other spells."

"You're a talented Sorceress, Sofia. But it is remarkably usual for you to struggle with a school of magic here and there. Counter Hexes require a certain kind of defiance that isn't prevalent in your personality." The words were flowing from Cedric. He was in his element, teaching but never belittling Sofia. She loved listening to him like this as they walked, crossing over the waterway that encircled the castle. "With no offense intended, my apprentice, you never gained the defiant streak of your siblings. You've always been rather...chipper. Counter Hexes require a certain level of, shall we say, devilish intention. It isn't simply a block to a Hex cast upon you."

"Oh? Maybe that's where I've gone wrong."

"I suspect as much. Without knowing what your opponent will cast, you have mere seconds to match your knowledge and skill against their prepared action. On an unlikely, lucky chance, you _might_ choose the right spell to successfully counter the Hex. A Blocking Spell is a broad spectrum cast that allows you to do just that: block the spell. A Counter Hex not only absorbs the Hex cast at you, but uses that magical energy, and thus less of your own, to redirect and counter the Hex with one of your own. Now this can go awry, say if you're casting against someone whose power greatly exceeds yours, which you shouldn't be doing in the first place, Sofia."

Sofia opened her mouth to protest that she could indeed defend herself, thank you very much. But Cedric anticipated her rebuttal and bulldozed over her objection.

"No, I'm not suggesting you can't take care of yourself. Your abilities have made it clear that you're a capable Sorceress. I only mean to say that you've already shown strength in Blocking Spells and would fair far better in a Spell Duel if you focused on them rather than trying to channel a non-existent diabolical bone in your body to Counter Hex." A sly smile crossed Cedric's lips as his eyes connected with hers. "Mischievous you can be, apprentice. Diabolical you are not."

Placated, Sofia couldn't help but laugh. He joined her, his eyes warming at their shared humor. He really was _sensational_. The title she had given him weeks into knowing him still fit him well. These supply stocking walks, just the two of them, were her favorite part of her apprenticeship, outside of all the incredible things she was learning. But the walks were always, _always_ too short. After sharing an amenable silence, they crossed into Dunwitty. Cedric immediately lost the affable attitude he had gained on their walk. His face dropped to a serious intensity and he walked a pace or two ahead of Sofia. His changes, subtle as they may be, shouted to Sofia in jarring tones "Do not come near me. I am not to be trifled with and I am more important than you and this princess-apprentice." This was the attitude of Cedric the Sensational, occasional hero of the realm who suffered no fools, the Master to whom she answered who had no time or patience for unwanted attention.

Villagers peeled away from them on the street, but would stop after they passed to watch Cedric and his unadorned Princess-Student following at his heels. Sofia would timidly smile and wave at them as she passed while keeping up with Cedric's quickened pace. She was still a Princess, even if she wasn't acting as one today. And, though Cedric may deny it, he was special to the villagers too. He kept them fed and safe without conflict. They couldn't help but feel grateful to him. A group of children approached Cedric rambunctiously but froze ahead of his glare. They stared up at him as he passed and each made a little bow. Cedric paused long enough to nod his head in their direction before storming forward. The children cried out with glee and Sofia couldn't help but notice Cedric's ears lift up with just the hint of a smile.

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 **A/N: Lots of exposition in this chapter, but you needed to get to know these two again a decade(ish) after the show has taken place. I see Sofia as just shy of 20 here (from the poking around I've done, her cannon birthday is in October) and Cedric at about 30.**

 **A huge shout out to Jessibelle811. Talking with you inspired me to finally write something instead of just brainstorming ideas. If you haven't read any of her StF works, what are you still doing here!? Go! Read!**

 **Revised: 6/29/17**


	3. Chapter 3

Give Me Your Riches: Chapter Three

A bell chimed merrily as the door to The Witch'n Kitch'n opened to admit Cedric and Sofia. Lucinda was in a chair behind the counter, balancing on the back two legs of her chair, a booted foot resting against the lip of the counter. She held a book in one hand and mindlessly twirled her wand in the other. The sound of the chime caused her to look up and a broad smile immediately crossed her face.

"Sofia!" The enthusiasm of the greeting gave the false implication that it had been months rather than weeks since Sofia's last visit. The book snapped shut and the front legs of the chair hit the ground, propelling Lucinda up and then around the counter to hug her dear friend. Lucinda had not changed much over the years. She was taller than Sofia with long raven hair tumbling down her back in wild waves. Her emerald green eyes belied a devious disposition, but her heart was not filled with any true malice. Lucinda had gone down her own path of helping and healing, thus breaking a centuries-long tradition of wicked witch-ing in her family. She had opened this shop, which Sofia had convinced her not to call The Bitch'n Witch'n Kitch'n, and dedicated her life to mixing healing salves and weaving Anti-Hex magic. She did all her work in exchange for anything but money. It was for this reason that her shop door never squeaked and was filled near to bursting with warm bread and sweet treats; payments she was eager to share with visitors.

Lucinda embraced Sofia and then passed her a hand-pie. "You have to try these. Mrs. Hanshaw brought them by this morning for helping their new calf with a cold. I don't know what's in them but they're amazing."

Sofia, knowing better than to protest, took a dainty bite and replied with an appreciative "Mmm" for the gooey mix of pastry and cherries. She swallowed and tucked the hand-pie away in her basket for later. "So how's your mom?"

"Disappointed in my deviation from wickedness, as usual," Lucinda replied cheerfully. "But she does still help with the more complicated spells, so I can't complain."

"And how's the shop?"

"Surprisingly quiet, as usual," Lucinda replied with the same amount of cheerfulness. She then continued under her breath. "Mostly in thanks to your sullen, surly Sorcerer over there." Cedric had given them a wide berth for their conservation, instead concentrating on investigating potion ingredients displayed in large clear jars on the opposite side of the shop. Sofia hit Lucinda's arm playfully.

"He's not my Sorcerer." Sofia replied in an equally hushed tone. "I'm his Apprentice. He's my Master."

"Oooo, even better." Lucinda wiggled her eyebrow at Sofia suggestively and Sofia sighed, trying to act dismissive towards Lucinda's suggestion while hoping she missed the tinge of red spreading across her cheeks. Cedric, still across the room, cleared his throat pointedly and Sofia snapped back to attention.

"Oh, right - do you have these ingredients?" She handed her smirking friend the list.

Lucinda's shop was well-stocked. She swiftly procured the requested items and handed them over to Sofia, who then brought them to Cedric for inspection. He judged each one, pinching the newt tails to watch their spring-back, smelling the wasp stings to assess the residual pollen deposits, and rubbing the tiniest bit of weevil paste between two fingers to check its grit. Satisfied, he nodded to Sofia who nodded to Lucinda who then wrapped the items in neat paper packages. Cedric maintained a detached distance the entire time. Sofia had never gotten a straight answer from Cedric as to why, but there was a certain level of animosity between Sorcerers and Witches. Sofia suspected it had to do with a Witch's generally unschooled, innate magical ability as opposed to the amount of work and study Sorcerers committed to find their full potential.

Loading the items into her basket, Sofia tried, and failed, to give Lucinda coins in payment. Lucinda waved her off.

"I didn't bring anything else to pay you with, Luce."

"Just come by for afternoon tea and bring your mom's biscuits. Tomorrow?"

Grudgingly defeated, Sofia nodded and then the two embraced again. Sofia left the shop with Cedric following behind her. He paused to give Lucinda the smallest bow he could manage in respect for the Witch's wares before following Sofia out. Their task in town completed, Sofia fell behind, deferring to Cedric, hoping he'd chose the longer path back to the castle.

Their return was immediately interrupted by the panicked scream of a horse. Sofia stepped farther into the road to try and see the source of the sound when she suddenly felt Cedric's arms wrap around her and pull her backwards roughly. A horse-drawn cart came flying around the bend, flinging its driver through the air to fall into the nearby bushes. The horse and cart were moving so quickly, time had barely allowed Cedric to pull Sofia out of harm's way, much less cast a spell. Cedric's arms lingered around Sofia's waist, holding her to him, as they stared at the cart. The horse continued to scream as it collided with a fruit stand and its vendor. Trapped by the collision, the horse finally stopped moving. Sofia barely had the chance to notice the surprising strength within Cedric's lithe frame as his body protectively pressed against hers before she shook herself out of the shock and broke from his arms. He didn't fight her. Scooping her skirts into her arms, Sofia started with quick steps and was running within a few paces, unphased by her flashing petticoats.

Lucinda had run out of her shop. Sofia passed her on her way to the crash.

"The driver was thrown out on the bend," she pointed, breathless, and kept on running. Sofia didn't wait to see if Lucinda started in the direction she had pointed; she knew the Witch would help.

The crash looked nearly as terrible as it had sounded. Mashed fruit and shattered wood made a sharp, colorful mess on the road. The macerated apples gave the air a pleasant scent that didn't match the scene before Sofia's eyes. The horse struggled against the harness that still connected him to the remains of the cart, causing it to rock back and forth atop the fruit vendor who cried in agony with every shift of the structure. Sofia ran to face the frightened horse. Fearlessly, she put hands on either side of his nose and spoke to the animal. She had long ago mastered the art of disguising her full-on conversations with creatures as common animal sensitivity.

"You have to stop moving now," she demanded in a firm, calm voice. "I know you're scared, but every time you move you're hurting someone under the cart that you're attached to."

"I'm what? What happened!? Untie me, untie me!" The horse had stopped bucking but his eyes stayed wild with fear.

"I'm going to untie you, but you have to promise not to run away." She stroked the horse's long nose with one hand and drew her wand with the other. "Look at me. Do you promise?"

Frightened eyes stilled and the horse gave what could only be described as an affirmative snort. A crowd had gathered, watching with morbid curiosity. Sofia ignored them, finding Cedric and locking eyes with him. She inclined her head to the cart and he nodded. Sofia exhaled and pointed her wand at the ropes connecting the horse to the cart.

" _Cis Chorda_." Sofia waved her wand expertly and a short red line of energy extended from it to cleanly cut the ropes. At the same time, Cedric waved his wand and lifted the busted cart and stand into the air and out of the way. It seemed as casual a motion to him as stirring sugar into tea. Not for the first time, Sofia felt a shudder run down her spine as she witnessed a small sample of her Master's effortless power. Sofia grabbed the horse's reins and passed them to a bystander before stepping over spilled apples to crouch beside the wounded man. He had been pinned by the fruit stand but didn't look as though he had been crushed. A long cut on his forehead leaked blood over a pale, pain stricken face and dark bruises were already beginning to form across his arms. The look of horror in his eyes, however, was due to the bone protruding through his shin and pant leg. Sofia settled down beside him, smiling gently and speaking in a soothing tone.

"My name is Sofia. You're going to be okay I'd like to cast a spell on you to see the extent of your injuries. Is that okay?" She didn't flinch at the blood and maintained a calm demeanor.

The man whimpered, fear in his eyes, but gave her the slightest of nods. Sofia took her wand and pressed the tip of it against the man's temple.

" _Ana Medicus_." A soft white light first trickled, then flowed out of Sofia's wand to rest across the entire length of the injured man. It rose several inches above his body in a perfect outline. Sofia shifted up onto her knees and thoroughly examined the outline: the bruises on his arms highlighted in orange light, the cut in yellow, and the broken bone in the shin a dark, angry red. A few other places were trivially injured, barely off-white in color. The broken bone was the only thing that required immediate attention. Focused on her analysis, she barely noticed Cedric's approach.

"The Witch says the driver will have a few days of recovery ahead of him, but he should be fine." He looked at the analysis spell Sofia had cast appreciatively, focusing on the red light. "What's next for this fellow?"

Sofia looked to the man sympathetically, smiling reassuringly. "I'm about to use some words that sound a lot scarier than they are, okay? Just rest easy, you're in the best hands possible with Master Cedric here." She looked back to Cedric and spoke with confident authority. "It's a compound fracture of the tibia. The other injuries are relatively superficial and should heal independently of magical intervention. But the fracture could use your attention now." Sofia took her wand away from its contact with the man's temple and the light-form of his figure scattered away like dandelion seeds in the wind. Her work done, she sat back on her heels and moved to pocket her wand before she was interrupted.

"What are you doing, Apprentice?" Cedric looked down at her, his face impassive.

Certain she hadn't done anything wrong, Sofia looked to her Master, confusion crowding her expression.

"You'll need your wand out to heal this gentleman."

Sofia's eyes widened, first in startlement and then disbelief. Her concern for the poor man's fear at her words and actions was lost against her incredulity at Cedric's request. No, not request - order. He was her Master and when he said for her to do something magical, it was her task to obey him. "What?!" she hissed at Cedric under her breath as she sprung to her feet. "I've never done anything like this! Fingers and-and toes! I've watched you heal at least two wounds this serious which-"

"Which is why you are ready to perform the task yourself," Cedric said, finishing her sentence for her. His tone, while not cruel, left no room for argument.

Sofia tried to swallow her rising panic. She slowly sunk back down to her knees, the reality of the task ahead weighing her down to the ground. She spared what she hoped was a reassuring smile for the sake of the injured man and tried to steady her shaking hand as she tightened her grip around her wand.

"Um...I'm going to be honest with you, sir," she squeaked out, "this is going to hurt. You might pass out from the pain. But you'll be as good as new when I'm done." There was a slight tremble in her voice, but Sofia tried to sound strong. She didn't notice Cedric had moved to stand behind her until she felt his hand on her shoulder. She relaxed at his touch, serenity settling over her. Sofia's hand stopped shaking. She took a deep breath. Her face adopted a look of practiced concentration and she pointed her wand at the protruding bone, speaking the words of the spell with clear conviction.

" _Osteo Emantur_."

Sofia's inner spark of magic ignited. She could feel it rushing through her, prickling across her skin. She glowed softly, though it was hard to see in the bright light of day. It was an intoxicating feeling, causing her eyes to flutter slightly before she was able to recapture her concentration. Seconds later, the prickling increased, but this time with a foreign sensation. The man had also started to glow across his entire body before all the light coalesced around his shin. Now the work began.

Healing was an exhaustive magic, even for an experienced user. It mostly drew upon the inner spark of magic within the subject of the healing. "Everyone has an inner well of magical power," Cedric lectured inside her memories. "For some, the depths are unending. For others, it is more shallow than a soup bowl. Untouched, it's the thing that sparks a person forward in the last legs of a race, what causes a parent to lift impossible weights to save their child. It's what brings those who are sick back from the brink and helps them to heal. Healing "without magical intervention" isn't truly healing without magic at all. When casting healing magic, you must draw upon your subject's well. I cannot emphasize this to you enough: regardless of how good your intention, if you try and take on the task of healing them with solely your own power, it will be twice as costly and bring their suffering onto yourself. This leaves you less capable for some period of time, depending on the depth of their well, your well, and the extent of the healing needed. Without any of their strength involved, the subject will lack all ability to heal independently once the spell is through. Permanent results require a little of you and a little of them."

Fortunately, Sofia was tending to this injury quickly enough and the man was strong enough that she was able to easily draw on his well, barely touching her own. She chanted a hushed, rhythmic song. It was enthralling, drawing the attention of every surrounding creature. The visible light pulsed to the rhythm of the song, slow and familiar like a melody absently hummed without knowing where it was first heard. The air around Sofia was palpably tense. Beads of sweat started to form on her brow as the song grew in strength but not in volume. Wisps of hair gradually shook free from her braid and hung around her head, but she paid them no mind. The only sound she could hear was the hum of her spell. Time lost meaning. Nothing existed but Sofia and this injury.

There was a loud **SNAP** as the bone returned to its proper place. The man screamed, a low and tortured sound, and fell unconscious. Sofia's look of single-minded focus didn't change. The heavy lifting was done, but the next would require her knowledge and delicate work. Sofia moved for the first time since beginning the spell to hover her hand above the now-smooth bone. She gently started manipulating her fingers, delicately lacing the skin and sinew back together without coming in contact with the man. It looked as though she was doing needlepoint in the air with one practiced hand. There was a misconception about magic that one lazy wave of the wand combined with a few funny words was all the effort required to change fate's design. That delusion couldn't be farther from the truth. Once repaired, the body would know how to act but every vein and nerve needed to be directed by someone who had memorized human anatomy.

A smooth shin covered in new skin and caked with dried blood peered out of ripped pants. The glowing ceased. The song stopped. Sofia sat back on her heels and wiped the back of her hand across her brow. Claps started to slowly break out around her, growing into a crescendo of applause. A woman appeared beside the man, taking Sofia's free hand and thanking her profusely, tears wetting her cheeks. Sofia gave her a polite, if slightly cursory, nod. Lucinda appeared on Sofia's other side to help her to her feet.

"That was amazing," Lucinda whispered in her ear, astonishment clear in her voice. "I had no idea you were so talented at healing, Sofia. You're incredible."

"Thank you," Sofia said mechanically, her voice heavy with fatigue. She was satisfied with her work, tired as she was, but still felt incredibly put-out for being put on the spot by Cedric. Her eyes darted around the crowd to find him so she could march up to him and give him a piece of her mind, Master or not.

Cedric stood away from the crowd, having moved away once it was clear that Sofia had matters well in-hand. He knew she didn't feel ready, but he also knew the kind of push she needed to access her own strength and power. It was a stern kind of encouragement that Cedric himself had always longed for and was determined to pass on to someone else. Sofia's innate ability to heal is what had opened him to the idea of taking her on as his Apprentice in the first place.

It was a summer day. Sofia was fifteen and in Cedric's tower trying to coax him to come to an official dinner as her guest. Wormwood suddenly flew through the window and collapsed, beaten and bloodied. It looked as though he had been attacked by a larger animal. Cedric flew to work, grabbing spellbook after spellbook, trying to find the right solution to aid his Familiar. Sofia tenderly picked Wormwood up and held him in her hands, stroking him gingerly. Cedric sensed raw and unadulterated magic and his head snapped up from his search. His eyes found Sofia glowing softly, eyes closed, unwittingly healing the bird. When she was through, Wormword, cawing quietly, timidly stretched his wings and Sofia stared down at him, slack-jawed. They both looked to her amulet first, but it hadn't activated. This power came directly from Sofia herself. If Cedric hadn't cared for her before, he was unable to deny the girl affection after that moment.

Whereupon that day Cedric had felt grateful to Sofia for her unteachable healing prowess, Cedric now felt pride and satisfaction at her healing skill. Helped up by her Witch friend, he watched Sofia search for him in the crowd. Once she found him, daggers shot from her eyes. She barreled towards him through the dispersing crowd. Once a few feet away from him, Sofia opened her mouth to speak. Before a word escaped her lips, Cedric gave Sofia a definitive, respectful bow of the head. She stopped immediately, words trapped like cotton in her mouth. That bow was very nearly the respect of an equal. Truthfully, Sofia was Cedric's superior in this school of magic, though she still required training to meet her full potential. The respect he gave her was earned and deserved. Flabbergasted, Sofia stood frozen as she watched Cedric collect her basket, hold it himself, and indicate the longer path back to the castle.

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 **A/N: The inconsistencies of the magic systems in StF drive me nuts. I've elected to ignore essentially every magic 'rule' in the show and input my own, at least when it comes to spell casting. I'm just using basic Latin, nothing fancy.**

 **Updated: 6/30/17**


	4. Chapter 4

Give Me Your Riches: Chapter Four

Cedric had rarely known Sofia to be this quiet for this long, at least not without a book in her hand. Their meandering walk back to the castle was nearly halfway through and she had yet to utter a sound. She seemed a touch fatigued, but mostly stunned by her success. It wasn't an entirely unpleasant silence that they shared, but Cedric surprised himself in admitting that he missed the lilting tone of Sofia's voice peppering the space between them with questions.

Sofia's work with the spell had been stunning. It had been a raw artistry befitting her. The melody of her magic had encapsulated him as she worked on the injured man. Cedric's admiration for Sofia competed with his feelings of pride towards her. Healing magic was challenging even for the most accomplished of sorcerers. Few bothered attempting it beyond the proficiency to treat minor maladies. It was an incredibly difficult school of magic for Cedric to successfully cast (though his healing potions were a different matter). Sofia's strength in something nearly unreachable to him gave her an allure that Cedric was finding harder and harder to ignore.

Healing required empathy: a feeling Cedric often struggled with due to his lack of trust in others. His sister Cordelia had indoctrinated mistrust into Cedric at a young age. Cordelia's cruel and selfish work while they were children in combination with his mother's more nefarious intentions had encouraged him to betray the trust of others in search of personal gain. During her childhood, Cedric had often tried to take advantage of Sofia's trust in him. Cedric couldn't pinpoint when, but somewhere along the line Sofia had successfully chipped away at his protective walls and gained _his_ trust. Sofia had even gained his mother's trust, causing her to forbid Cedric from continuing his quest to steal the Amulet of Avalor (regardless of the fact that Cedric had vowed before the king to, essentially, cease the search months prior to his mother's insistence).

Empathy and trust were, however, two of Sofia's defining characteristics. For better or worse, she assumed everyone she met to be virtuous. And her optimism and sunny disposition usually proved her right by bringing out the best in the people around her. Cedric couldn't begin to comprehend the trust Sofia so easily came by. He certainly couldn't begrudge her upbringing for shaping her in this way; it's simply who she was. Even if she had never become a princess, Cedric believed Sofia would have still found the positivity in every situation. It had taken him years to understand that she wasn't blindly innocent and wholesome. She just choose to see the good in people, himself included. She made him want to be a better man.

" _A better teacher."_ Cedric quickly corrected his train of thought. " _Sofia makes me want to be a better_ _ **teacher**_ _."_

Cedric looked down at Sofia. Her head bobbed along beside his shoulder, her eyes staring off into the distance. He found himself caught up in staring down at her, her delicately pink lips starting to curl into the hint of a smile at the corners of her mouth.

"Thank you." Sofia's voice shook Cedric from a potentially dangerous train of thoughts.

He waved his hand in the air dismissively. Sofia grabbed it with both of her hands before he could speak, causing them to stop walking. Earnest eyes beamed up into his. Cedric fought back a pang of longing: two short years ago, if Sofia had looked at him like that she would have swept him up into a hug moments later that he would have begrudgingly accepted. Now a grown woman, that kind of affection was no longer appropriate between Sofia and Cedric. Her clinging to his hand like this wasn't exactly appropriate, either, but he wouldn't be the one to rebuff her.

"No, don't dismiss it. _Thank you_. I want you to take me at my word when I say this: I would never have been able to accomplish that spell without you. And I finally understand! I can finally see where I might fit in the world. Everyone around me had always seemed to know what they wanted to do. Amber and James knew exactly what paths they wanted to take. I only ever knew that I wanted to help people, but I never knew how I could do it in any meaningful way."

Sofia's grip around his hand tightened. Cedric didn't mind. His stiff exterior was wavering under her attention.

"You changed all that. You took me on as your apprentice even though my obligations mean I can't be as dedicated as another student might be. You've never refused my visits to your tower over all these years. You encouraged the magic inside me from the very beginning. I know I have more to learn, but I finally feel like I know where I'm going and it's because of you." Her torrent of words ceased and she paused so that he would focus on the earnesty of her final words. "Thank you, Cedric."

Cedric could only stare back down at her, astounded that he had done so much for someone else.

"M-master, I mean," Sofia corrected, putting the tiniest blemish on their connection. Cedric noticed how her face lacked any blemishes, though she had the lightest speckling of freckles across her nose. Had he ever noticed them before? Cedric opened his mouth to speak but found it dry. He had to clear his throat before he could say anything.

"Y-yes, well. You're w-welcome." He favored her with a rare, genuine smile. It seemed only Sofia's sincerity could bring him to stutter, now. A slight tint of red joined the freckles on her face.

" _Oh, Morgana's music,"_ Cedric thought as realization dawned over him. That look in her eyes was beyond the beaming admiration between Master and Apprentice. The blush across her cheeks was not embarrassment from such an honest speech of thanks. Whether or not Sofia realized it, and Cedric didn't think she did, the affection she was showing him was more than just platonic fondness. He wriggled his hand free from her grip, handed the basket to her, and started walking forward. He engaged a great amount of self control to continue at their usual, measured pace rather than speed back to the castle to extricate himself from her presence as soon as possible. Sofia hesitated a moment before joining him.

"Now tell me," Cedric said, brokering a strict change of subject from emotions to education, "what kind of potion would have yielded the same results as your spell today, if it had already been brewed?"

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Upon arrival at the castle, Sofia returned to her room to wash up for the mid-day meal. She couldn't stop smiling. It was undoubtedly caused by her magical success, finally getting Cedric to accept heartfelt thanks from her, and thinking about his smile looking down on her. Her stomach kept doing little flips of glee. It was a potent, thrilling combination that left her rushing to get to the Great Hall to share it with her family.

Sofia was the last one into the Great Hall. Amber and her mother were sitting side by side, pouring over a seating chart. Her mother was, and always would be, the most beautiful woman Sofia had ever seen. Queen Miranda still appeared youthful; she gave birth to Sofia at a young age. She had grown into a mature, dark-haired beauty that Sofia could only hope to mature into, herself.

Amber's golden locks fell with deliberate precision over her shoulders. The ignorant outsider would see her and think her only vain and vapid: Amber looked the part of the pampered princess, with a closet full of at least 365 dresses so she would never be caught in the same ensemble twice in a year. But hidden behind her perfectly applied powders was a sharp and calculating mind accented by tender care for her loved ones. Amber would be the consummate queen when their father stepped down.

Their father sat at the head of the table, a pair of spectacles balanced on the end of his nose as he stared down at a list in his hands. Baileywick was standing beside him with a second scroll also in need of review. King Roland still looked like the man who called Sofia "daughter" without hesitation so many years ago. The physical differences from then to now could only be found in the white wings of hair at his temples and deeper laugh lines etched around his mouth and eyes. Baileywick looked equally unchanged, his age only showing through a slightly receding hairline and an aversion to bending his knees. There were a few rumors running around the castle about his retirement, but Sofia hoped they weren't true. She could no sooner imagine the castle without Baileywick as she could imagine a pocketwatch without its hour hand.

Across from Amber and Queen Miranda sat Cedric and an empty chair for Sofia. She still felt pleased with herself for convincing Cedric to join the mid-day meals. It was a meal reserved for family and, the way Sofia saw it, Cedric was a part of her family. He was integral to the success and safety of Enchancia. Yes, some people saw him as a servant and perhaps at some level he was. But didn't a king serve his people? As far as Sofia was concerned, Cedric served the people of Enchancia just as her father did, making them courtly equals in her eyes.

Cedric had been accepted by the family with one exception. Despite her strongest efforts, Sofia could only get her father and Cedric to tolerate one another. They performed their duties to Enchancia without conflict. But there was no reason behind their quiet animosity, at least none she could understand. They were like oil and water: the two men simply didn't mix. They most often sat in civil silence, one respectfully ignoring the other until matters of state required them to converse.

Sofia took her seat, a physical buffer between Cedric and her father. She eyed the vegetable soup in front of her, purposefully ignoring the more carnivorous choices of her table-fellows. The thought of eating someone she could talk to had turned Sofia to a strictly vegetarian lifestyle.

"I'm sorry I'm late, but you wouldn't believe wha-"

"Sofia," Amber didn't look up from the seating chart as she spoke, impatiently tapping her quill as she spoke, "do you think that Vivian would be alright sitting beside Hildegard? The last time they saw each other it wasn't particularly pleasant for anyone."

Sofia didn't bother responding. She knew her sister well enough to know she was about to answer her own question.

"Oh, what am I saying?! _Of course_ not. This just throws everything off, Mother! I don't know what to do!" Amber threw her arms up into the air.

Miranda clicked her tongue once like a mother hen before shaking her head sympathetically and slowly pulling the seating chart away from Amber. "Oh darling, we'll work it out. But I think it's time for a break." She cleared her throat and looked across the table at her husband.

"Hm…?" Roland said absently. "Yes, what your mother said, Amber." Sofia nudged his foot under the table with her own. Roland looked over at Sofia, confused. Sofia raised her eyebrows and very subtly inclined her head towards her mother who was staring pointedly at him.

"Ah!" Roland caught sight of her stare and gave his queen a sheepish grin, removing his glasses and handing them to Baileywick. Baileywick smoothly took the glasses and scrolls and backed away, barely accompanied by the sounds of his shoes on the marble floor. Roland gave her a broad smile. "I'm sorry, darling. I'm here. All yours."

A sociable silence fell over the table as everyone ate. Amber mostly pushed her food around with her fork instead of eating as she was want to do when stressed.

"When does James get back?" Miranda asked, breaking the silence.

"The day of Amber's Annunciation Ball." Delight gleamed from Roland. He was proud of his son, the First Prince of the Sword of Enchancia. "About a week."

"A week too soon," Amber groaned. She looked up from her plate to her family staring back at her. "For the ball," She corrected. "Not for James."

Sofia could see the real cause of Amber's melancholy. She missed her twin just as much as Sofia missed him. She often heard Amber absently humming their famed twin song when he was gone.

The silence returned, broken only by the clink of silverware on plates.

"I was saying before that the most amazing thing happened at the village today," Sofia added, her voice the music of the meal-time minuet.

Miranda looked up from her plate. "You went to the village today?"

"Yes. Which reminds me, Mother, I need a batch of your shortbread biscuits tomorrow afternoon for tea with Lucinda. Is that alright?"

"Of course, that's fine. There should be a full tin in the kitchens that was baked yesterday. Now what happened while you were there?"

Sofia spared a glance to Cedric. He was generally quiet during these meals, occasionally chiming in here or there. Today, however, he was absolutely button-lipped and extremely focused on his water goblet.

"Well, just as we were leaving Lucinda's shop, a horse and cart crashed into a fruit vendor. It completely destroyed the stall and cart and it all fell on top of the poor man. I ran over and calmed the horse and Cedric effortlessly lifted the cart off of the man."

Sofia paused, her trailing tone implying that she expected Cedric to add to the story. Her Master, however, didn't react. He didn't even respond to her small compliment to his skills.

"Um," Sofia recovered, "anyway, the man was okay, except that he had a compound fracture of the shin-"

"Oh, ew, Sofia. Really? At the table?" Amber made a disgusted face. Sofia stifled a need to roll her eyes.

"Is the man alright?" Roland asked, genuine concern coloring his features. He looked intently at Cedric, expecting an answer.

Realizing all eyes were on him and he couldn't avoid the direct question, Cedric reluctantly joined the conversation. "Yes, he's fine. Thanks to Princess Sofia." He did a poor job at hiding emotion from his tone. A hint of pride edged its way out into the open. "She healed him."

Sofia seemed to glow with contentment at the pride in his tone, small though it was. "I did!" She exclaimed. "He's going to be fine because of my healing!"

Her parents took a moment to shower her with compliments while Amber clapped both politely and indifferently.

"Thank you! But I couldn't have done it without Master Cedric. And you, Father, for letting me pursue my sorceress studies with him, You won't be disappointed with my work, I promise. I'm learning all of these different means to help people, to help the kingdom. All from Cedric. He's an incredible teacher." Sofia looked over to Cedric, her expression nearly matching the one she had given him on their walk.

This unadulterated look of affection did not go unnoticed by Amber. "Yes, I'm sure he gives you lots of... _confidence_ ," she said with a wry smile and a teasing lilt to her voice.

Cedric's eyes snapped from Sofia to Amber. "Yes, well, she's very naturally gifted. But she still has much to learn." His pride evaporated, replaced with a cold detachment. "I mean, she could barely stand by the time she finished. I dare say, if the wound had been any more serious, she would have fallen unconscious from the effort."

"I suppose if that had been the case, you would have been forced to _carry_ her back to the castle, Cedric." Amber had found an entertaining distraction from her seating-chart plight in Cedric's reactions. "And that would be so inconvenient and _embarrassing_."

The light pink of satisfaction across Sofia's cheeks deepened to crimson as she looked across the table to Amber, annoyance and hurt playing across her face.

Cedric nearly choked on his next sip of water and he began to sputter. "W-w-well yes, of course. D-d-do excuse me, your majesties, I have a potion in my tower that requires my constant attention." The scrape of his chair echoed in the large chamber as Cedric pushed away from the table. His bow to the royal family was low and curt. He spun on his heels and walked away with a quick stride.

Amber dabbed her mouth with her napkin, hiding a smirk. Miranda looked consolingly to Sofia. Roland barely noticed the conversation, focused instead on a scroll he had subtly waved over from Baileywick during the exchange.

"Amber, that was mean!" Sofia shot at her sister.

"Oh, Sofia, _really_. You and your "Master" both need a thicker skin." Smugly satisfied, Amber finally took a dainty bite of her meal.

Sofia pushed her bowl forward and set her spoon beside it. "May I be excused?" she asked her mother quickly, her polite question smothering the frustration she felt. Miranda nodded and Sofia left the table, her heels clicking evenly as she left by means of the door Cedric hadn't used in his exit.

Door safely closed behind her, Sofia hurried down the path to Cedric's tower. She had to apologize for Amber's behavior. Cedric could be sensitive and the smallest things could set him off and nothing with Amber was ever small.

Sofia made it to the tower in record time. The door didn't open for her. That was unusual. She knocked.

"No." came a muffled voice from the other side.

Sofia knocked again, more determinedly this time.

No response.

Sofia lifted her hand to knock a third, more insistent, time and her hand hit air instead of wood as the door opened. Cedric stood before her, tall and surprisingly imposing. Amber eyes the color of killer bee honey glared down at her.

"You don't have lessons again until tomorrow morning. What do you want?" His voice was a terse, annoyed monotone. Startled by his radical change in demeanor from their last one-on-one conversation, Sofia almost forgot her purpose in standing before him.

"I-I-"

"You, you?"

Sofia felt her mouth gape open. He was using that aloof, holier-than-thou tone he reserved for the imbeciles he enjoyed making jokes about during state events, usually to make _her_ laugh. She set her jaw and crossed her arms under her bust.

"I came to apologize for Amber's rude behavior, but now I think you're the one who owes me the apology."

Cedric scoffed. "Oh that's rich, Princess. And why would I owe you an apology?"

"Your tone just now. It's the tone you reserve for people you think are idiots. And what you said about me at lunch - that was cruel. I know I have more work to do, but you didn't have to present me to my family as a wilting flower. Especially not when I was in the middle of complimenting you!" While she spoke, Cedric presented her with an exaggerated rolling of the eyes.

"I'm so sorry to have hurt the little Princess Sofia's feelings. Silly me to think I was dealing with an apprentice, prepared to deal with criticism on the path to making you a better sorceress. I apologize for treating you like an adult, not a child." His words were biting.

"I am _not_ a child!" Sofia, somewhat childishly, yelled back at him.

Cedric let the echo of her exclamation resonate, rebounding against the walls around her, a self-satisfied smirk across his face. Sofia suppressed her embarrassment and opened her mouth to speak again, but Cedric beat her to it.

"If you're interested in a hobby for party tricks and a master to praise your most mundane accomplishments, I have not the time for you, Princess."

"That's not - were you even listening to what I sa-"

"If you are a serious sorceress, and not simply a spoiled girl, I expect to see you in the morning. Though, admittedly, I wouldn't be surprised to spend the morning alone." It wasn't a challenge. His tone relayed an insinuation that she would fail him.

The door slammed soundly in Sofia's face, the whirlwind of their confrontation leaving her dumbfounded. The door opened seconds later and Cedric shoved Sofia's basket, now empty of potion supplies and pastry, into her hands before giving the door a second slam.

Sofia clung to the basket. It was the only thing about this moment that was tangible to her. She felt, for certain, that her relationship with Cedric extended beyond Master and Apprentice. She thought of him as her friend and had thought of him that way long before she stopped calling him Mister and started calling him Master. Cedric had changed her life today in pushing her to heal that man's shin. While, no, it wasn't the grandest accomplishment in the world, it certainly didn't feel mundane to her.

Her mind still spinning, Sofia made her way back down the tower steps. She took them all the way down to the ground level, to the door that lead to the castle exterior. Cedric's beratement had confused her, but she walked away with one clear message: Cedric didn't think she was serious about sorcery. That was the farthest thing from the truth, especially after a day like today. Stepping out of the tower into the mid-afternoon light, Sofia made the decision to show up to her lesson tomorrow morning prepared to impress. And that meant showing up with spells memorized, wand in hand, and a basket full of potion ingredients Cedric hated to collect. Once she was back in his good graces, today's off-color admonition would be have to be addressed. But first she had to weasel her way back in. Heading into the castle gardens, Sofia set herself into its depths to find her peace offerings.

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 **A/N:**

 **Read and review, please. Hearing from readers is practically life sustaining. Thank you for taking the time!**

 **Updated: 7/20/17**


	5. Chapter 5

Give Me Your Riches: Chapter Five

Cedric leaned heavily against the sturdy tower door. Sofia's departing steps had faded but he stayed with his back pressed against the door for several more minutes, relying on it to hold him upright. He softly banged the back of his against the solid wood, again, and again, and again in an uneven rhythm. He hadn't spoken so condescendingly to Sofia in years. He could not believe a naive crush (that Sofia didn't even seem conscious of) was enough to make him recoil and strike out at her like a cornered snake.

Amber had managed to completely upend that conversation, expertly getting under Cedric's skin and turning him into the bumbling idiot he thought he had left behind years ago. Her words were too well chosen and cutting to have been unintentional. Sofia's work today had been good, exceptional even. She didn't deserve the chastising he had given her because of Amber's manipulative meddling. He had been too reactive to Amber's words, already on edge from his revelation that Sofia held more than platonic feelings towards him.

" _Why is it a bad thing?"_ A tiny voice chimed from his mind. Cedric groaned and resumed his head pounding on the door, this time trying to knock sense into himself. Cedric wasn't _old_ in his thirty second year, but Sofia was just a month away from her nineteenth birthday. She was young enough for him to have had some hand in raising her from girlhood which was immediately enough for him to have cause to slap himself across the face. Beyond their thirteen year gap, Sofia was a bloody Princess. Though she _was_ untraditional. With Amber assuming her right to rule, and James beside her as the First Sword of Enchancia, Sofia would be able to pursue accomplishments beyond marriage. She was proving to be a power in her own right, not just a pawn to be traded across the board for a stronger piece. Regardless, royalty tended to stay with royalty.

Cedric scoffed, " _why would a Princess ever choose someone below her station? How could a bird possibly love a fish?"_

" _You're making excuses. She's not like that."_ the voice chimed again. If he was being honest, it sounded a bit like Sofia's voice in his head. But at least that statement was more fact than conjecture. Sofia enjoyed the benefits of her rank, but she had never forgotten her humble roots. He quite enjoyed seeing her on days like today: tiara discarded, simply dressed, the only opulence on her found in the Amulet of Avalor and the sparkle of her sky blue eyes. More intoxicating than her appearance was her talent for sorcery woven with her inherent goodness.

" _What did I ever do to deserve someone like Sofia in my life?"_ Cedric thought, a bit ruefully. " _I'm made of nothing but spite and impatience and she of benevolence and beauty."_

Still, somehow their differences had come to complement each other in a continuously thriving friendship. Sofia was friendly, enthusiastic, and frustratingly independent. Cedric was judgemental, practical, and stubborn as a stone wall. Together, they found a natural balance as Apprentice and Master.

" _It wouldn't be the first time a relationship sprung from that bond."_ Cedric found his own voice addressing the possibility.

He gave his head a good firm shake and then stood up.

" _I braved the Basilisk Boneyard, defeated the deadly Dullahan of Dunbrough, and brewed the fiery phoenix philter, for Merlin's sake. How am I wasting my time on_ _ **this**_ _?"_

Cedric had a sacred duty to Sofia as her Master. It was his charge to educate her, not distract her with flights of fancy. It was normal to develop affection towards a teacher, particularly when considering the amount of time he and Sofia spent together. Sofia would outgrow this crush just as she had outgrown those frilly, lavender gowns.

"Through with that pathetic display then, are you?" Wormwood cawed critically from his wooden perch beside the window. "That exchange with Sofia seemed….unnecessary."

"Nobody asked you, Wormy." Cedric remained uncertain as to whether understanding his Familiar's speech was a blessing or a curse. The bird was cantankerous.

"No one ever does," Wormword sighed heavily.

Cedric straightened and walked across the room, shrugging off his robe, leaving him in shirt, vest, and pants. He let the robe pool into a puddle of fabric in the middle of the stone floor. The small rebellion against the order Sofia brought to his tower was satisfying. She wouldn't return until the morning, anyway,

" _If she returns at all,"_ a dark murmur from the back of his mind added. Cedric shoved the dour thought down and away.

"Are you going to pick that up? Sofia will have your head for leaving it there." Wormword said while lazily preening his feathers.

Cedric, in response, heeled off his shoes. While staring obstinately at Wormwood, he abandoned one shoe a few steps from his robe and kicked the other across the room. Wormword gave a second exacerbated sigh and returned his full focus to his feathers.

In stocking feet, Cedric stood at his work table where he had hastily dumped the contents of Sofia's basket. He had returned her tiara but neglected the pastry. He took a testing bite before deciding to enjoy the rest of it; he had left lunch quite abruptly, after all. Pastry in one hand, he put the potion ingredients away and then loosened his tie while meandering down the steps to his study. It was dim during this time of day; the room only got sunlight in the morning. Pastry finished, Cedric licked crumbs from his fingers and waved his other hand at the fireplace. It ignited with a roar.

The study had become more than just an empty room once Sofia had discovered it. Cedric hadn't been certain what to do with the space, so he left it alone. Sofia filled it with odds and ends that wouldn't be missed around the castle: a tapestry to warm the walls with colors so faded its story had been lost to time, a dark green rug with a large stain in the center that smelled of peppermint, and two patched armchairs with footstools that Sofia had restuffed as one of her first magical tasks for Cedric. It had become the place where Cedric most felt at home. He scooped up the book he had been reading and settled down into his chair. He started to read, intentionally drowning himself in his research.

.

* * *

.

"Ha!" Sofia shouted triumphantly. She had finally stunned her mark: the Alabaster Spindle Wing. It was a butterfly she knew Cedric didn't have in his inventory. It was the primary ingredient of the Ghostwalk Potion Cedric had been wanting to brew, inhibited only by the butterfly's absence. The ancient book he drew this potion from had disintegrating pages and several unsavory stains splashed across multiple pages. The potion would supposedly allow the user to walk through walls and she was excited to see it done. Sofia delicately placed the stilled butterfly in her basket. She exhaled, drained from what had been the better part of an hour spent chasing that remarkably elusive insect. Sofia looked around, focusing on the scenery around her for the first time since had caught sight of the butterfly.

This was a part of the gardens so deep into the castle grounds that it was poorly tended and overgrown. Enchancia had a reputation for impeccable presentation, but the gardens had always been just a little neglected. Sofia loved it. The plants were untamed and raw. It allowed the greenery and the flowers to achieve their full potential without intervention. It was just the opposite of the linear greenhouse, which was where she was most often sent to collect potion ingredients.

The sun had begun its descent from noon and pleasantly warmed Sofia's face against the crist September air. She soaked in the wild green around her, taking in a deep breath through the nose. It smelled of wet earth from last night's rain and bloomed roses. She looked up. Here there were roses woven into the overgrown hedge walls, clinging to the last whispers of summer. Sofia leaned into the hedge wall, cautious of thorns, to bury her nose into the silky soft petals of a rose and was surprised to find a solid structure against her shoulder. Rose forgotten, she turned to face the hedge wall. She set her basket on the ground and tentatively reached both hands into its bulk. Her left hand found nothing but thick, impassable growth. Her right hand pressed up against something hard.

Sofia wrapped her hand around the leaves and vines before her. She started to pull the greenery away in her search for the solid something just out of sight. Her curiosity fueled her so immediately that it took several minutes of fighting with the leaves for Sofia to remember that she was a sorceress and there was an easier way to do this. She took out her wand and outlined what she believed to be the shape of the structure before her.

" _Cedate plantae,_ she said in a confident but quiet voice. The growth within the outline she had made from her wand withdrew to the edges of her spell. Sofia was standing before a hastily constructed, stone-and-mortar wall. The stones were mismatched both in size and color. Touching the wall with her hand revealed that the builder had been sloppily concerned with speed over precision as the mortar unevenly dripped over stones, too thick in some places and barely thick enough in others. Tapping it in a few places with her wand confirmed the construction to be mundane and non-magical.

Based on the growth of the hedges and vines, this wall had been built a long time ago. But Sofia was no expert. She couldn't tell for certain how long it had been there. She looked up. The wall might have stood as tall as the hedges once, but they now dwarfed it in size. Her curiosity egging her on, Sofia decided to see for herself what was inside. She took a long look to her left and then her right to ensure she was alone. She looked down at the Amulet of Avalor around her neck and spoke.

"I wish to be big please. Just tall enough to step over this hedge wall." Sofia had found over the years that the Amulet always appreciated manners and specifics. In a warm flash of light, Sofia found herself growing unnaturally tall: twice the size of the hedge wall. She immediately crouched down and peered her eyes over the wall. Her cursory glance showed an overgrown square with a smallish structure in the center. Not feeling threatened, she straightened, stepped over the hedge wall, crouched and spoke a second time.

"I wish to return to my regular size, please." Another warm flash of light and Sofia shrunk back down to her normal height. She looked around, scrutinizing in her surroundings.

Sofia stood in a what once must have been a perfectly manicured square, darkened by the tall hedges around her. Grass creeped up to her shins and tickled the skin under her skirts. It felt a little familiar, but she couldn't place the memory. A broken gate pressed up against the other side of the speedily constructed stone wall. The gate was ornate iron work that looked more like art to be admired than a portal to be trafficked through. It was the sort of gate that protected something special.

" **Give me your riches and I'll grant you three wishes**."

Sofia nearly jumped out of her skin as she let out a yelp. In her startelement, she bumped the gate, which creaked and elicited a second yelp. She looked around frantically for the source of the voice. Sofia choked down the need to panic, forcing herself to remain composed. She gripped her wand so tightly she could feel her nails starting to dig into her palm.

"...who said that?" She cautiously.

But there was nothing. There was no one there. Just a dilapidated old well in the center of the square.

" **I did** ," a mechanical, toneless voice replied from the well.

Sofia stood perfectly still for a long moment before hesitantly walking to the source of the voice. She tightened her grip on her wand for the tenth time since hearing the voice and ran through every shielding spell she knew. She got as close to the well as she dared, stretching out her neck to peer into it from a distance. A frown crossed her face. She couldn't see it clearly. There were too many rotted leaves and general overgrowth. Sofia saw a fallen stick on the ground by her feet. Not taking her eyes off the well, she picked up the stick and used it to brush away some of the detritus. Her view finally clear, Sofia wasn't faced with water and depths. Instead she saw the vacant face of a sun staring upwards.

Her mind flooded with images.

 _Being turned into a cat by Amber. Her father wishing and turning her back into a girl. That same mechanical voice begging her father to make his third, and final, wish. A frustrated Clover who couldn't find his way back to his lifetime supply of radishes, Sofia helping him only to be unable to find the broken gate again no matter how hard they both looked._

Sofia took a careful step backwards. Alarms were going off in her head. Cedric's voice spoke in her head in a stern, warning tone: "Wishing is _dangerous_ , Sofia. What sounds innocent can ruin lives. Your Amulet is the exception, not the rule, and even it has its costs. Wish magic always comes at a high price, even if you aren't the one to pay it."

The little Sofia remembered from her feline experience was that this particular Well was a powerful magical object, and that it deserved to be treated with respect, and reverence, and distance. Whoever built that stone wall put it there for a reason, though she couldn't help but wonder who did it and why.

" **Give me your riches, and I'll grant you three wishes** ," it repeated identical to its first declaration.

"No, thank you." Sofia said politely, continuing to back away. She was about to wish her amulet make her big again before she stopped. She couldn't say the word "wish" here, not where the Well could hear her. Even if she hadn't given it any riches, it was too risky. Instead, Sofia pointed her wand at her shoes.

" _Volvate cum pinnae."_ Little wings appeared on the back of her shoes and, with an enthusiastic jump, she leapt high into the air, assisted by the wings flapping forcefully. She flailed her arms and managed to catch the top of the hedgewall.

" **Wait, please. I have so many wishes to grant.** " That broken, automated voice was strangely haunting.

Sofia didn't respond to the Well as she awkwardly flung herself down the other side of the hedgewall. The only things that saved her from a hard landing were the magic wings on her shoes, helping her to flutter down to land on her feet beside her basket. She picked it up and started to make her way back to the castle, the wings adding a pleasant skip to her step. Every thirty yards or so, Sofia would pause and magic a small yellow ribbon into existence. She nestled them into the hedges so they would be difficult for a passerby to see and accidentally move. Uncertain of how she arrived here, she wanted to be able to find her way back.

This wall and this Well were pieces of a mystery. Maybe this would even be something that would help her win back Cedric's good graces. _Someone_ in the castle was sure to know about this, and who better to ask than the man who knew about everything in the castle: Baileywick. Sofia hastened her winged steps, eager to speak with the castle Steward after supper.

.

* * *

.

It felt as though supper had never lasted this long as Sofia anxiously waited for the meal to end. Amber excused herself after the meal to retire early, exhausted from the "trials of the day," as she called them. This left Sofia and her parents alone at the table. Servants cleared the dessert plates and Baileywick appeared with a tray sporting three crystal tumblers, each half filled with cognac brandy.

The honey colored, sweet and smokey liquid was strong and Sofia could only ever stomach a few sips. But sharing the drink with her parents and siblings, when present, had become an after-supper ritual she had come to enjoy.

"Baileywick?" Sofia grabbed the Steward's attention as she took the last glass from his proffered tray.

"Yes, Princess Sofia?" Baileywick moved to hold the tray under his arm, giving the young woman his full attention.

"Do you know anything about a wall in the castle gardens?"

"What sort of wall, Princess Sofia?"

"A stone wall. I came across it today when I was looking for potion supplies. It's deeper in the gardens. The sections that haven't been tended to in some time?"

"Ah," Baileywick shook his head, "Those gardens! I do apologize, Your Majesties, I've done a terrible job with their care. The gardeners swear that the hedgerows move at night and other tasks always seem to take priority. But I do hope to address it at the end of the winter season."

"Oh don't, Baileywick! At least, not too pristinely. I love it the way it is!" Sofia said with an imploring smile. Her mother laughed lightly. Sofia turned to share a smile with her and caught a tense expression on her father's face but Baileywick's words pulled her gaze away.

"I'll do my best, Princess. Now what about this wall?"

"From what I can remember," she said, choosing her words carefully. As far as Sofia knew, her mother still didn't know about the wishing-well-cat-incident. "This wall stands in front of a broken iron gate that I remember seeing when I was a little girl. Do you have any idea why someone would have walled it up?"

Baileywick opened his mouth to respond but was interrupted by the harsh sound of crystal slamming down onto the table.

"That's _enough_ , Sofia," Roland shouted at her. Sofia drew her free hand to press against her chest in alarm. Her eyes widened as she took in the sight of her suddenly enraged father. She had seen her father angry in a regal sort of way, but never like this. His crystal tumbler had cracked and brandy was slowly leaking onto the table. His entire body was tense as though he was working hard to hold himself in his seat. His mouth was a pressed, thin line that held back the curl of a snarl. His eyes were narrowed and glaring at Sofia. Anger was an emotion that Sofia never associated with her father, but in this moment, it overtook him. The air was sucked from the room, Roland's sudden flame of rage consuming all the surrounding breath.

Baileywick looked completely stunned, unable to do anything but stare at the King. Miranda placed a gentle, albeit timid hand on his forearm.

"Sofia was only asking after something in the hedge gardens, Rolly." Her voice was cautious as she attempted to defuse her husband. "She didn't mean anything by asking after what she found today."

Sofia managed a small nod of agreement.

Roland stood abruptly, shrugging away Miranda's touch. Sofia had never noticed just how tall her father was until this moment as he loomed over her from where he stood. She suddenly felt very, very small.

"There is nothing in those gardens that warrants any further discussion, Sofia." His words were even and measured, but his posture spoke to the fury within him. "You are not return to that portion of the gardens again. Ever."

But Sofia wouldn't be dissuaded so easily. Not, at least, without a good reason. Mild indignation found her voice. "Father, I don't understand -"

Miranda spoke at the same time, their voices overlapping. "Roland, what is-"

Roland cut them both off with the sheer intensity of his tone, eyes boring down into Sofia as he ignored his wife. "I am your _Father_ and your _King_ and my decisions do not require explanation."

Sofia looked dumbly across the table at her mother, who returned a similar expression.

"Sofia, you are excused." Roland's curt tone left no room for argument. Obeying seemed the only option. Sofia gingerly set down her glass on the table. Baileywick helped with her chair and Sofia woodenly walked out of the room, Baileywick following close behind. He closed the doors to the Great Hall soundlessly and silently escorted Sofia to her room as she tried to process what had just happened.

Once alone with Miranda, Roland collapsed back into his chair. He set his elbows on the table, one in a puddle of brandy, and leaned his head into his hands, deflated.

Miranda sat staring at him for several long minutes, struggling to come up with something to say.

"What….what was that, Rolly?" Disappointment, confusion, and concern all wrapped up into her slowly spoken words. "I've never heard you speak to anyone...I've never seen you so...What _was_ that?"

Roland started to massage his forehead. "I don't have to explain myself, Miranda." He muttered.

Miranda bit back what she wanted to say in response to that. She was his wife, after all, and if anyone deserved a glimpse into the reasoning behind his behaviors, it was her. But a brute force approach was clearly not what he needed from her and it certainly wouldn't get her the answers she wanted. She laid a tender hand on his arm, tracing her fingers up to his hand and slowly taking his hand in her own. She tilted her head to try and make contact with his eyes. "I wish you would." Her voice quietly invited him to open up to her.

The expression that looked up at her was nearly as unrecognizable as the fury Roland had shown minutes earlier. He was agony personified. His eyes were glassy, fighting to bury unspoken pain. His face contorted as he tried to maintain control over his emotions. His hand clung to his wife's as though it was the rope keeping him from falling into a deep pit. "I cannot," he said, his voice cracking with emotion. "It would break me. Break us! All that we've worked for. Gone."

Sympathy welled up to replace the confusion in Miranda. She was on her feet and standing beside him before she knew it. Her other hand reached forward to lovingly caress his cheek. "It's okay, Rolly. I love you. You can tell me anything."

Roland gave his head one succinct shake. "I will not tell you this," he said sounding regretful but resigned. Desperately leaning into her touch, he quietly added "I am a good king."

.

* * *

.

 **A/N:**

 **Fun Fact - The Dullahan is the Irish equivalent of the Headless Horseman and he's afraid of gold.**

 **Updated: 7/20/17**


	6. Chapter 6

Give Me Your Riches: Chapter Six

Sofia had not slept.

From the time Baileywick had silently left her at the door to her rooms to the time the sun finally, _finally_ peaked over the horizon line, Sofia had been unable to rest. She still felt too small, her plush room too large. Her bed only made her feel smaller, so she dragged her impossibly fluffy duvet and a pillow to the window seat and curled up there. She was still unsettled, but more comfortable. She found herself vacantly staring out at the night sky and replaying the evening's events in her head.

Even though she hadn't mentioned it directly, it was painfully clear that something about the wishing well made her father extremely angry. It had driven him to become _enraged_ and _forbid_ her from visiting it again. Sofia had never seen him act so ferociously. Was the cat incident that upsetting to him? She tried to delve into her memory of that day. Unfortunately, those memories were so colored with the relief that she was no longer a cat that she had trouble recalling anything else about the event.

Sofia reclined and let her forehead press against the cool glass of the window. She watched the stars as they faded, one by one into the dawn sky. Morning had come and there was nothing to do but stand up and face the day. She got up from the window seat and wrapped the duvet around her like a bulky cloak, holding it to herself against the chill of the morning. She hopped from carpet to carpet in a well-practiced dance, her bare feet avoiding the touch of cold marble floors.

In her closet, Sofia selected a simple, midnight-blue gown that she could dress in without assistance; it would still be a few hours before a maid would come into her room, draw the curtains, and help her dress. This dress had a high neckline, cutting straight across her collarbone and leaving her neck and part of her shoulders exposed with the fabric meeting in a shallow "v" between her shoulder blades. The sleeves were tight to her skin, which was good for sorcery work, and extended all the way down to her wrists. The day wouldn't be cold enough to truly warrant the long sleeves, but Sofia felt an unusual need to be comforted and the soft fabric would do a fine job doing that.

" _Robe-draped arms would be more comforting than yards of silk…"_ her thoughts teased her and Sofia felt herself blush as she selected a pair of elegant mid-calf boots that complemented the delicate silks of her dress. In spite of everything said yesterday, she believed Cedric was still her friend and her Master. There was no way he would ever think of her as anything other than his Apprentice. He was brilliant and powerful and experienced she was just a student. The idea of being with Cedric romantically was an impossibility, a girlish flight of fancy. It meant nothing beside the thrill and importance of her studies; she didn't want to run the risk of endangering those.

Even so, Cedric had had no right to use such a condescending tone with her, not when she had done nothing to deserve it. Sofia welcomed constructive criticism but that didn't mean she would be a punching bag.

" _Except for last night. But that was...different…"_ The fury shown by her father still had Sofia rattled. She had no idea what she would say or do when she faced him next.

She finished lacing her boots and shook her head as if to loosen the uncomfortable thoughts and let them fall away. Sofia needed to concentrate on the task at hand which, this morning, was regaining Cedric's good graces. If that happened to cause her to avoid her father for most of the day, so be it. Sofia ran a brush through her hair and spared herself a glance in the mirror. Her hair fell past her shoulders to the middle of her back in soft, auburn waves. She took a moment to arrange her Amulet to lay evenly over her dress and made a conscious decision to leave her tiara on her dressing table. Today she would be a Sorceress, not a Princess. Sofia took a deep breath and put on a genuine smile. Her reflection glowed back at her with her trademark confidence and positivity. She checked the concealed pocket at her hip and slipped her wand inside, picked up her basket with yesterday's findings still nestled inside, and left her room, heading first for the kitchens.

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* * *

.

Daylight streamed across Cedric's face as he slept in his study. He blinked weary eyes against the light before waving his hand in its direction. Far off, he heard the sound of curtains snapping together and the light was gone. He sighed lightly, content again in the darkness and settled farther into his chair, pulling the blanket closer around him. Seconds later, light very rudely reintroduced itself to the room. Cedric grumbled aloud and pulled the blanket over his head.

In his blanket cocoon, Cedric opened his eyes and wondered briefly where the blanket had come from. He slowly peered out from under it and the picture pieced itself together. The room had all the touches of Sofia. The fire had been rekindled to bring warmth to the room. A tray sat on the unoccupied foot rest with, based on the smell, a pot of black tea prepared just as he liked it (steeped for far longer than it should be with just a touch of honey) and apple scones, still warm from the ovens. The book he had been reading was sitting neatly beside the tray, the page marked with a spare piece of parchment. And a blanket covered him to keep him warm as he slept. Sofia, no doubt, was the one who opened his curtains after he so determinedly shut them from afar.

Cedric couldn't help but smile. Sofia was unfailingly kind. Even when he was unnecessarily sharp with her, she came back and treated him with tender care. Cedric's smile faded a little as he realized he didn't deserve her kindness, not today. He needed to apologize. If nothing else, he would never hear the end of it from his mother if she ever found out about what he had said and done yesterday. Cedric sat up, letting the blanket fall and settle around his waist as he reached over for a cup of tea and a scone. He took a few bites and tried to come up with something to say before he faced the proverbial music.

Cedric nursed his first cup of tea for as long as he dared before he stood and slowly made his way up the stairs with leaden feet. He grimaced a little, remembering the rebellious little mess he left yesterday. A quick glance at the top of the steps showed the robe hung in place and his shoes sitting neatly below. Cedric hoped that Wormwood had found it in his heart to clean up, however unlikely he knew that to be. He looked over and saw Sofia in profile, leaning over his work table. The morning light was playing lightly over her skin, giving her an almost ethereal glow against the dark blue of her dress. She was concentrating: lips occasionally mouthing the words of what she was reading, eyes narrowed and focused on the book open before her. Small circles rimmed her eyes as if she hadn't slept. A flood of guilt washed over Cedric as he hoped his unkind words hadn't been the cause of a sleepless night.

Cedric faintly noticed a sour smell to the air as he took in the cauldron on the table. Sofia was slowly stirring the contents counterclockwise with her left hand. Her right hand moved down to the page of the book and she pointed to what must be the list of ingredients and instructions. She would read a line, give her head the slightest nod, and then move her finger to the next line. Cedric didn't realize he was staring, soaking in her every miniscule move, until Sofia spoke.

"I think you'll want to see this, Master." She reached across the table and delicately held up an albino butterfly, inspecting it in the sunlight. "Or is this not the potion you've been wanting to make for the better part of six months?"

"No! Is that?!" Cedric's long gait ate up the distance between him and Sofia.

"The Alabaster Spindle Wing," they said together, Cedric with a touch of awe and Sofia with a glimmer of self-satisfaction. Cedric didn't have to ask what she was brewing. A quick glance at the book she was referencing and the Alabaster Spindle Wing told him she was making the Ghostwalk Potion. The sleepy daze of the morning was instantly gone and he was rapt with attention.

"And that's 17 turns. Time for the butterfly." Sofia removed the stirring stick and looked down at the creamy white liquid. The sour scent it emitted was some combination of unwashed bandages and spoiled milk, but it wasn't even close to the worst smelling thing they had brewed in this tower. By comparison, this scent was akin to a bouquet of summer lilies.

Sofia held the butterfly by its abdomen above the cauldron, slowly lowering it until the wings had only just made contact with the liquid. Cedric leaned in closer to watch. Sofia released her hold on the butterfly. The liquid seemed to reach up and grab the delicate white wings of the Alabaster Spindle Wing and then ate away at them, dissolving them as though they were made of spun sugar and had been dropped into boiling water. It was gone in seconds, incorporated into the potion. The scent in the air faded to nothing and brew turned from creamy white to translucent.

The scent of the potion gone, Cedric became suddenly aware of the scent of Sofia as he noticed where he stood. To get the best look at her administration of the butterfly, he had moved to stand very close to her. He had one hand on the small of her back and the other on the work table to steady himself as he leaned closer to the cauldron and, by default, closer to Sofia. She smelled like jasmine and wild rose and vanilla and the small of her back was invitingly warm underneath the silk against his hand. She seemed to be leaning into him ever so slightly as Cedric thought the already slim gap between their bodies narrowed. He was struck by the need to make things right. He needed to apologize. Now.

"Sofia, I-"

"There's been a misunderstanding between us." She cut him off, voice soft and touched with wonder as she continued to stare at the potion and its minute changes with each passing second. "I don't come to you just to fill hours in meaningless magic tricks. I'm not here to fulfil a need for an impressive hobby." She broke her gaze from the potion and turned her head so she could look into Cedric's eyes. The move was slight, as they were already very close together. The intensity in her eyes would have made Cedric believe whatever words she said next, even if she told him the sky was green and fish could fly. "I am here to become a Sorceress. A fully fledged, fully trained, potion-brewing, wand-waving Sorceress. I will meet every task, every challenge you give me in pursuit of that goal. If I have to give up certain other expectations associated with my title, I will do it. My time is yours, Master. Assign it how you see fit."

Sofia picked up the stirring stick, drawing her attention back to the potion and giving the clear liquid one clockwise turn around the cauldron before removing it again. She read from the book, the melody of her words not missing a beat between her focused declaration and her announcement of instruction. "A stir like this every three hours for thirteen days with every sixth stir counterclockwise." She moved away, breaking the connection between herself and Cedric. But before she could get too far, Cedric grabbed her hand and tugged slightly, turning her to face him. He stared at her for a moment, still slightly dumbstruck by her for the second time in as many days. He broke the silence before he lost his nerve.

"I apologize." He blurted out. She looked back at him, a little bewildered. The silence lasted just a bit too long before he spoke again. "It's my fault that you felt like you had to say all this. I believe you when you say you have serious intentions for your training. I wouldn't have accepted you as my Apprentice, otherwise. Nothing in our routine need change. I treated you poorly yesterday and I am sorry."

Cedric could see tears welling in Sofia's eyes. Expecting to panic and push away from her at such a sign of emotion, he surprised himself by instead reaching out and sympathetically gripping her shoulder. He was rather distraught to see her upset. He felt guilty that he might be the cause of her distress which competed against a surprisingly ferocious need to protect Sofia against whatever had caused her to suffer in any way, even if it was him.

"What is it?"

Sofia looked over to Cedric's hand on her shoulder. Her voice sounded decidedly higher as she tried to keep her emotions in check. "Last night. My father-there was, um…". She looked determinedly upwards as though she was trying to defy gravity to keep her tears in her eyes. "Uh-uhm I'm just, I'm tired. It's nothing, really." She closed her eyes tightly and a tear rolled down her cheek. She stomped her foot once in frustration as she drew her free hand to wipe away the escaped tear.

"It clearly isn't nothing. Tell me." Cedric said sternly, supportively.

Sofia opened her eyes, still looking upward, and opened her mouth to speak but paused. Her eyes furrowed and her tone was sober and even. "Have those gargoyles always been there?"

"...What?" The non sequitur took Cedric by surprise.

Sofia pointed to the ceiling. Cedric followed her hand. There sat four gargoyles, evenly placed, that leered over the interior top level of the tower. They were made of a dark gray stone and each had a slightly different menacing expression, though it was had to see clearly from the main level. In a swish of skirts, Sofia was nearly flying up the staircase that circled the tower to get a closer look. Cedric followed a few paces behind. He hated these stairs. His bedroom was up there on the third level and, though he enjoyed being able to look out at the sky with an uninhibited view, the trek up stairs to get there never felt worth it until he got to the top. He had taken to foregoing the steps completely and either casting a spell to fly to the top or falling asleep in his study, as he had last night.

In this moment, however, he followed Sofia on foot. When he reached the top, she was scrutinizing the gargoyles with great interest, standing on her tiptoes as if an extra inch would get her a better look when they were stationed eight or nine feet above her head. Cedric looked up, too. Though he was uncertain as to what he was looking for in the statues.

"Did you put them there?" Sofia circled the landing, moving to look at each of the four gargoyles.

Cedric smiled up at the statues a bit fondly. "No, they've been there as long as I can remember. I've always rather liked them."

"There used to be similar ones that surrounded the castle exterior," Sofia stated, thoughtful.

"Mm, yes. Shame - your father had me turn them all into golden flying horses." Cedric grimaced slightly before correcting himself. "Rather, I turned one to a living flying horse on accident and your father told me to forget about the rest. I went back later, _alone_ , and finished the task. Not that he ever noticed. I shouldn't be surprised, I suppose. He's the only one who still has me doing party tricks now that there's little around the kingdom that needs getting done."

"My father…" Sofia's face was consternated as she considered Cedric's words. "Did he ask you to change other things around the castle?"

"Well….yes." Cedric said, mildly surprised that he hadn't put any thought into it before. "Particularly in the beginning of my tenure here, after my father left. The castle exterior used to be a much darker color. Then there were the gargoyles. Let's see...he seemed especially averse to the color green, often replacing it with red. And I believe the stain glass windows were changed as well, though I only did one of those. As I recall, he decided to bring a specialist in for them."

"Did my father have tastes that varied so much from Roland the First?"

"Honestly..." Cedric tried to think back and came up with nothing. "I didn't notice."

"Didn't you live here while your father was Royal Sorcerer?"

"Barely. Almost all of my time was spent Hexley Hall. I came to prefer it, though. In the castle, I was only ever third best behind your father and my sister, if I was even ranked at all. My father sent me to board at Hexley as soon as they would take me. And you know my father, he took any opportunity for prestige... He went there to guest lecture around most holidays rather than having me come here. I barely called the tower home before your mother married your father and you came to the castle."

Sofia crossed her arms at this last statement, seeming to hold herself and make her presence smaller than it was.

"Sofia?" Cedric tilted his head slightly as he looked at her, concern in his eyes. The Sofia he knew could only be called small in regard to her stature. Something about her was different today and it tugged at him. He felt drawn to reach out and touch her again, but he instead schooled his hands at his side. "Is everything alright? Why are you asking after all of this?"

Sofia tapped her foot absently. "I...I don't know. Just something I'm trying to figure out, I guess."

Cedric didn't push her further. They shared a comfortable silence as Sofia continued to gaze up at the gargoyles. Cedric eyed his unmade bed through the slightly ajar bedroom door and considered how he needed to go in there and tidy up. _He_ needed to tidy up, for that matter. He absently reached up to his hair and was pleased to find it relatively in place, if a little tangled. He could use a change of clothes, and probably a shave, too.

"I have some things I need to write down before I forget them." Sofia's voice interrupted Cedric's contemplation. She made her way down the steps, still lost in thought. Cedric watched her descend. Once on the main level, Sofia reached into the basket she must have brought with her and pulled out a palm-sized book. She opened the book and started writing in it with the quill Cedric had given her on Wassailia last year; he had enchanted it to never need a dip in an inkwell. Only years of walking around his tower kept Sofia from bumping into a single thing as she made her way down to the study, nose buried in her notes. Cedric felt a weight land heavily on his shoulder and Wormword nipped him once on the ear. The bird called this affection. Cedric called it assault.

"She's in a bit of a strange mood, today, don't you think?" Wormword asked, just loud enough for Cedric to hear.

"She is. I can't quite determine why…." Cedric's train of thought was interrupted by another, "Tell me you're the one who put away my robe and shoes?" He asked imploringly.

Wormwood made a sound somewhere between a caw and a cackle that Cedric took as a definitive, and disappointing, 'no.'

Cedric cleaned himself up and joined Sofia in the study soon after. They only got up to tend to the potion as required, both engaged in their reading. Sofia stood to leave briefly for the library but Cedric stopped her, urging her to challenge her skill with sorcery and summon the book she wanted instead. Sofia almost looked relieved not to have to withdraw from the tower and Cedric saw her first smile of the day when "Architecture of Enchancia" by Sir Robert Conference appeared in her hands after only two attempts.

The clock chimed and Sofia looked up to the sound. Cedric eyed the clock, sighed, put down his studies and made his way up the steps. He stopped when he noticed Sofia wasn't following behind him.

"The mid-day meal?" He said, his tone asking why she was still seated.

Sofia opened her mouth to say something but decided against it, pressing her lips together instead before finally saying, "I'm not hungry."

Cedric was about to protest; if he had to go to these family meals at her insistence, he certainly wasn't going without her. A knock on the door interrupted him. Not expecting anyone, Cedric walked up the rest of the steps and to his tower door, opening it to find Baileywick.

"Is Princess Sofia here?" the Steward asked crisply.

"Yes, Baileywick," Cedric said with a forced civility. He and Baileywick had only ever tolerated each other. Cedric looked back towards the study. Sofia had moved closer to the steps so he could see her. Her eyes begged into his. Cedric's response faltered slightly. "But...I'm afraid I cannot be without her at the moment. We're in the midst of quite a complicated potion as you can see," he gestured to his work table behind him. He flicked an unseen hand and an illusion of smoke began to peal out from the cauldron holding the Ghostwalk Potion. "I require a second set of hands."

"Indeed…" Baileywick said with an unusual understanding in his tone. His eyes, carefully calculated behind his spectacles, gave nothing away. Cedric expected a protest against keeping Sofia from the meal but none came. "I'll send up food for the both of you. Good day."

"Good day..." And Baileywick was gone, the door neatly closing behind him. "Well that's never happened," Cedric mumbled to himself as he waved his hand and the smoke illusion vanished. Sofia lingered on the bottom step of the study. The morning sunlight had abandoned the room and it was now only brightened by candlelight. Sofia had pressed herself against the wall, almost blending with the shadows that the fire flickered in and out of existence across the stones. She looked up at him with indebted eyes.

"Thank you, Cedric." Sofia's voice was controlled but soft, as if she was forbidding herself from showing the emotions she was truly feeling. "I just...I can't. Not yet. Thank you."

Cedric couldn't deter the compassionate, though slightly confused, smile that warmed his face as he looked down on her. "Of course, Sofia." He let the smile fade away as she returned to her patched armchair. Cedric chided himself internally as he slowly walked back down to the study as well. He had made a commitment to himself in that moment to be Sofia's Master, not some haphazard attempt at being her...anything else. But that train of thought pittered away at the sight of her curled up in her chair, wearing a spare robe of his as a blanket over her waist and legs with her nose buried in a book while she absently twirled her wand between her fingers. Perhaps it would be alright to get lost in the daydream of her, just for today.

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 **A/N:**

 **Thanks for reading and reviewing - it's so nice to hear that I'm not writing to an empty room!**

 **And a second big thanks to those of you who haven't reviewed but have followed or favorited this story. I get such a thrill with every single notification. Thank you!**

 **Updated: 7/25/17**


	7. Chapter 7

Give Me Your Riches: Chapter Seven

"You're awfully quiet today."

"Huh?" Sofia broke her gaze off of the window and turned her attention to Lucinda. The witch was casually lounging against an oversized pillow pressed against the upper level wall of her shop. It was one large room, sectioned off by well placed curtains usually drawn back during the day. The afternoon sun was streaming across the warm wooden floors, comfortably heating the room. Sofia sat on her own pillow with her legs folded under her in an entirely unprincess-like posture. Her teacup was clutched in both hands, her thumb absently running across the lip of the cup.

"I asked if you wanted more tea and when you didn't respond I said that you are awfully quiet today. What's going on?"

"More tea would be great, Luce, thanks. I think I need the caffeine."

"What's up?" Lucinda pointed her wand at the pot on the table and waved it over to Sofia's cup. It tipped with precision, filling her cup and then retreating to the table. Lucinda pointed her wand in the direction of the cup. "I could give you an extra bit of pep, if you want…" A mischievous grin lingered on Lucinda's lips and Sofia couldn't help but smile.

"No, thank you, _just_ the tea is fine. I didn't sleep well."

A long, pregnant pause filled the space between the two. Sofia sipped her tea.

"It's Cedric, isn't it?" Lucinda blurted.

Sofia raised her eyebrows. The rest of her face remained purposefully hidden behind her cup.

"Oh don't look at me like that. I saw how he looked at you yesterday. He looks at you like that basically every time I see you two together and I _definitely_ see how you look at him."

"For the millionth time, there's nothing between us." Sofia's tone was even. She was the picture of a well composed diplomat. She did, however, have to bite down the urge to ask precisely what look of Cedric's Lucinda was talking about.

"Exactly," the witch smirked, a gleam in her eye.

Sofia sighed lightly. "Meaning?"

"Meaning there's nothing between you. Meaning there's not even space between you. Meaning you're pressed riiiiiight up against him."

"Lucinda!" There was no hiding her blush this time. Sofia wouldn't have been surprised to find her toes as red as her cheeks.

Lucinda batted her eyelashes innocently. "What? Something I said?"

Sofia was helpless to retort. She took a long drink of her tea instead, draining the entire cup and continuing to clutch it in both of her hands.

"There's nothing to be embarrassed about, Sof. Cedric is definitely good looking in that dark, brooding, bookish sort of way. That's just fact." Lucinda indulged a sly smile. "I wouldn't mind your Potions Master stirring my pot."

Sofia couldn't even muster an admonishing squeak. Her jaw dropped open and she stared wide-eyed at Lucinda.

"You know, I'm not certain why I've never considered him before," Lucinda continued. "He's brilliant, worldly, and his magic is _very_ impressive. Knowing he has all that power inside him..." She released a shivering sigh. "It's damn sexy."

"He's too old for you," Sofia said, finding her voice. She lifted her chin just the slightest bit in imitation of Amber's superior social skills. The strength of princess trained powers of avoidance flooded through her.

Lucinda waved a dismissive hand in the air and leaned back on her pillow, biting the tip of her wand thoughtfully.

"You say 'old' like it's a problem. Besides, he's not old, just old _er_. Which, in this case, means he probably has some very fun experience under his belt." She wiggled her eyebrows suggestively in Sofia's direction. Lucinda put down her cup and tilted her head to the side. "This realization is just so striking to me, I think I'll traipse over to the castle now and see if I can gain an audience. You wouldn't mind, would you?"

Sofia's practiced exterior cracked and she bit her lip. "Well, i-if that's how you really feel..."

"I KNEW IT!" Lucinda exclaimed in triumph, cutting Sofia off. "You do like him."

Sofa groaned, leaning back and looking defeated. "But I can't, Luce," she admitted, softly.

"Why? Stupid Royal rules?"

Sofia nodded. "My parents would never accept him for me with my position as a Princess and his as our Royal Sorcerer. And then there's our Master and Apprentice relationship on top of all of that. Nevermind that he'd never even think of me that way."

"One," Lucinda held up her hand to count on her fingers, "with Amber taking on the crown, you can be exactly like your Aunt Tilly and renounce your title and become a Duchess-thingy or whatever she is. Two, it would be easier to count the number of Masters and Apprentices who _don't_ spark into romantic relationships than the ones who do. Three, he already looks at you like you're the only woman in the world when he thinks no one is looking. I've caught the look at least once since your birthday ball last year." Lucinda crossed her arms and ankles and raised her eyebrow in a bit of a challenge. "Check and mate, my little magical princess."

"Fine," Sofia set down her teacup and crossed her arms. She wasn't certain if she liked how Lucinda so easily wormed her way around the barriers Sofia had built up in her head. "I don't outright reject the possibility. Good enough?"

"It'll do," Lucinda shrugged.

A long moment passed between them before Sofia added, "you're not actually going to go and see him, right?"

Lucinda couldn't help but laugh.

Relaxed again and blessedly blush free, Sofia poked at the plate beside her that held a biscuit. She broke off a piece and nibbled at it, getting a distant look in her eye. Lucinda cocked her head to the side.

"Now what, Sof? Come on, out with it."

"It's stupid."

"Not if it's bothering you this much."

Lucinda waited patiently as Sofia tried to articulate her worries.

"Last night," Sofia started, slowly and then picked up rambling speed, "my father got _angry_. I've never seen him like that, Luce. He yelled at me and sent me away to my room. He made me feel so small. I haven't felt like that since my father, my _birth_ father died and I was so little then, I barely remember it. But I do remember feeling small. I didn't think he would make me feel that way."

"Why was he angry?" Lucinda asked, the teasing and lighthearted lilt gone from her voice.

"I don't know! That's the thing - I don't even understand why. I mean, if I had done something to deserve it then fine, so be it. But I didn't. I've thought it over. I thought it over so much last night that I couldn't sleep. I didn't break one rule, I didn't do anything wrong. He got enraged after I asked about this place in the gardens that I found yesterday. I guess it has something to do with that, but I don't understand what."

"And you're sure you didn't do anything wrong?"

"Yes!" Sofia sighed heavily and threw her arms in the air, letting them slap against her sides as they fell. "No. I don't know. I'm just so confused."

"Have you seen him since then?"

"I've been...avoiding him."

"Avoiding? That doesn't sound like you. Besides, how can you possibly avoid the King? He's at your breakfast every morning. And he's everywhere in the kingdom by the very nature of his job, at least until Amber takes over. And then she'll be everywhere just like he is now, just like his father was before him and back and back and back. He's unavoidable. You've got to face him at some point."

"Well of course I do. I'm just hoping that time will be delayed by a day...or three."

Lucinda fixed Sofia with an unbending look. "Sof, it's not stupid that you feel hurt and confused, but it is stupid that you're avoiding your own father. It's never going to get better unless you talk to him and figure out what actually happened. He loves you. I'm sure you two can work this out. It'll be in your best interest to clear it all up sooner rather than later."

Sofia looked confused. "Why?"

Lucinda's wicked smile returned. "So that you two are on a good footing when you confess your love for Cedric to your father."

Sofia threw a small pillow across the room and hit the witch squarely in the face. She fell back with an "oof!" and burst into giggles.

"You're more wicked than your mother gives you credit for."

Lucinda answered with a delighted cackle.

"Will you let me stay through dinner, at least? If I promise to face my father in the morning? We could run over and grab Ruby and Jade and have a girls night." Sofia said pleadingly.

"Sure."

"Really?"

"With one condition."

"I already said I would speak with my father tomorrow morning."

"Yeah, besides that one." Lucinda leaned forward conspiratorially. "You have to say to me, right now 'I like Cedric _romantically_.'"

Although it rubbed at her, Sofia would say what she had to in over to avoid her father for just a little longer. She summoned all of her inner strength to keep her face its proper color as she blurted, "IlikeCedricromantically." Lucinda nodded once, satisfied, and stood go collect Ruby and Jade. Before Sofia stood to join her, she allowed herself the smallest smile, happy to revel for once at the butterflies doing backflips in her stomach.

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Roland skulked beneath a dark awning outside his home. His body was leaning against the side of the house like it was solely responsible for holding the building upright. The sound of babies wailing could be heard even from outside. His eyes shut tightly against every infant cry. His dirt-encrusted hands clutched his hat and a wave of dread washed over him, followed immediately by a wave of guilt. This was the third day in a row he had come home late to screaming babies. But there was nothing for it. The sun had set and he had to go inside. Roland moved to the door and put his hand on the doorknob. He paused for one last, steadying breath and walked inside.

It took all of Roland's strength not to walk away from the unkempt disaster in his home. Used diapers were tossed by the door to be washed, giving the air an acrid, carrot-infused odor of excrement. Used dishes were piled impossibly high. No food was out for a meal, save for a heel of bread that had already been gnawed on. He looked about the room and found his wife on the floor beside the crib, her back pressed against the wall of the house. She looked utterly defeated as she quietly begged "please stop crying," again and again to the twins. They stood in their crib, clinging to the bars like tiny, trapped criminals and wailing as they tried to reach their mother who sat just beyond their reach. Roland rushed over to the crib and scooped up both of the babies. They didn't quiet, still squirming and reaching for their mother.

"Your hands, you have to wash your hands first…" she said absently.

"It's just earth, Ceres. It won't hurt them. What will hurt them…" Roland trailed off, trying to bite back his frustration. "They just want to be held and they want _you_. Just take Amber and then James will calm down long enough once she's calmed down and we can trade off."

"You're late. Again." Ceres' words were clipped now, Roland's presence seeming to have shaken her from an exhausted daze.

"Not by choice, and you know that." He allowed the bite in his tone this time, tired of having this same fight. "His Royal Highness is working us harder than ever. If I take time off before I'm dismissed, I could lose the job and then where would we be? They don't care that I need to leave to be here and they'll care even less if they send me away for being a poor worker."

Roland tightened his grip on both babies as they struggled to squirm out of his arms. In a panicked moment, James wriggled free and fell. Roland just barely caught him by his ankle and saved him from a terrible impact with the floor. Scared, James' crying began with renewed vigor. Amber now fought even harder to get down, to get to her brother. Roland collapsed to the floor with a hard **thud** and allowed Amber to waddle over to her brother to hold him. And they stood there, small arms wrapped around each other, wailing and inching closer and closer to their mother, who hadn't moved throughout this entire ordeal.

"GODS, CERES." Roland suddenly erupted. "JUST HOLD THEM, PLEASE!"

Ceres looked torn between crying harder than the babes and yelling back at Roland. Reluctantly, she opened her arms and the babies toddled to her quickly before the invitation could be revoked. They instantly quieted in her arms and silence finally returned to the house.

"You think I'm a terrible mother," Ceres said coldly.

Roland shook his head and sighed. "I think it's been a rough few days."

" _I_ think I'm a terrible mother. I said it when I got pregnant. I said it nearly a year ago when they were born. _They_ were born. Not he or she but _they_ because the gods above have a cruel sense of humor. But I can't help the way I feel, Roland. Daunted and scared and hopeless and overwhelmed all the time." She paused for a long time, her stare penetrating into him. "So I need you to go. As terrible as I am with them, I can make it through another day. But I can't do it if you keep coming home and looking at me like you do." Tears trickled down from the corners of her eyes, but she kept her voice even for the sake of the pacified twins nuzzled against her chest.

"Cer, I…" Roland couldn't complete his thought. He didn't know what to say.

"I don't want you here, Roland. You can come back tonight or days from now but not until you can stop looking at me like I'm a disappointment to you."

"But that's not true, Cer. That's not fair."

" _Go_."

Roland got up to his feet. He stepped towards his family and leaned over. He gave each twin a kiss and paused beside his wife. She turned her head away from him in the smallest motion so Roland left, not kissing her goodbye and already feeling regretful for it as he crossed the threshold of his home, the home that he worked so hard to hold together.

Alone at dusk in town, Roland gave both lengths of the street a long look before deciding to walk back to the castle. He certainly didn't feel like talking, so visiting a friend was out of the question. And he didn't have money to waste on drink or gambling so the tavern wasn't an option either. He had never wandered the castle gardens at night and now seemed as good a time as any to look in and admire the beauty of his labors. Where else could he possibly go?

His foot had just crossed the entrance to the hedgerows when Roland released an agonized scream and woke up.

"DON"T GO!" he shouted out after a wordless cry, clutching a pillow to his chest. He was panting, sweating, and fighting back tears of panic. Roland started out across his bedroom hungrily, mentally clinging to the very real surroundings as he tried to cement himself back in reality. Moments later, Miranda's hand was absently stroking the nape of his neck.

"Shhhh…just a dream, Rolly," she said drowsily. "Just a bad dream...s'okay. I'm here." The words had barely left her lips before she had fallen back to sleep, her hand descending down Roland's back to rest peacefully at her side. Roland forced himself to lay back down but nothing could bring him to close his eyes. He couldn't risk the chance of being thrust back into his nightmares, his memories.

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 **A/N:**

 **I am so appreciative of your reviews (and for sticking with me when I make promises I don't keep) and the non-verbal appreciation of views/follows/favorites.**

 **Updated: 7/25/17**


	8. Chapter 8

Give Me Your Riches: Chapter Eight

The library of the castle had become a seldom used place once the Royal Children had finished their schooling, but the past week had brought it new life. Sofia had spent every spare moment spread across its tables with towers of books. Today was no different, regardless of Amber's Annunciation Ball just hours away.

Exactly what Sofia was researching still wasn't exactly clear to her. Her tea with Lucinda hadn't done much to abate her confusion at her father's odd behavior. The following morning, King Roland had apologized at breakfast for his outburst but stood by his declaration that the abandoned portions of the garden were to remain off limits. His interactions with Sofia over the week had been short both in number and in tone.

Burning for answers, Sofia had pulled books on architecture and history, lineage and geography, diplomacy and heraldry. She was searching blindly for any reason her father would have to forbid her interaction with the well in the garden. She took notes when facts caught her attention, but the books didn't cover much beyond what she had studied while at Royal Prep.

Sofia exhaled lightly, closed her book, and checked the large gilded clock seated on the mantle above the fireplace. She still had time. She took a fresh book to a comfortable chair nestled between the stacks and flopped down into its pillowy cushions. She was beginning to come to the conclusion that she would need something more to find her answers. Something more than what was contained in this library but what that was, she had no idea.

Sofia was so deeply engaged in a book about troll stone masons that she didn't notice as Cedric entered the library. He approached quietly, respectful of the hallowed space, and found himself stilled by the sight of his young apprentice. She struck a stunning image in an ethereally silver gown accented with dark amethyst jewels across the bodice and neckline. Her face had been made-up, likely at Princess Amber's insistence, but it had been done with a light hand. Her hair was swept up behind her tiara, the coronet announcing her station to all who saw her. The image she painted might have been ruined for another man with the rather unrefined way her skirts were sprawled around her in her chair, but Cedric found her all the more endearing like this: lost to her task with her nose buried in a book. It was moments like this where Cedric had to firmly remind himself that she was a Royal Princess of Enchancia.

Something about her had changed a week ago but she wouldn't discuss it. Cedric hadn't pressed her, but it seemed unlike Sofia to keep something so impactful to herself. How many hours had he been made to endure her babbling worries over tryouts for the Flying Derby or losing touch with James as he traveled the world in his knightly education? Perhaps that was the cause of her distress? James had been scheduled to arrive for this ball but had sent word ahead that his arrival would be, regrettably, delayed.

Still, time was fleeting. Cedric had a task to complete, though he was remiss to disturb her.

"Princess Sofia?"

Sofia's head shot up and she seemed to take in the world around her for the first time. "What time is it? Am I late? Amber will kill me! Where are my gloves?!"

Sofia shut her book and the snap of it closing echoed around the room. She set it aside and tried to stand but the combination of the depth of that chair with those voluminous skirts and stiff corset made standing on her own a challenge. Seeing her struggle, Cedric took the few steps to reach her and held out his hand helpfully. Sofia took it and together they tugged her to her feet. She stumbled and collided against his chest as he stood firm. They laughed and then quieted as Sofia lingered there, close to him. She tilted her head up toward his, her wide eyes drinking in his smile before it faded. Cedric took a step back and cleared his throat. He released her hands gently and, with a wave of his hand, summoned her gloves to him, handing them to her.

"You're not late yet, only nearly, Princess," he said, emphasizing her title as an audible reminder to himself of what she was. "Amber has Baileywick in a rather fragile state. He asked me to come and find you while he does some other impossibly miniscule task to satisfy your...perfectionist of a sister. Your maids said you left your rooms nearly two hours back and I thought to find you here."

Sofia pulled on her elbow-length gloves and hurriedly brushed out her skirts as Cedric spoke. She noticed he had put significant effort into dressing for this ball, as it was unavoidable for him. As the Royal Sorcerer of Enchancia, he would need to be there to witness the official announcement of Amber's intentions to succeed the throne after her father. Cedric had neatly tied back his hair with a simple black ribbon, looking uncharacteristically kempt and tidy. A crisp white shirt peeked out beneath a dark green vest with golden buttons that brought out the flecks of gold in his eyes. He had forgone his yellow tie in favor of a black one that matched his formal sorcerer's robes.

Sofia picked up her notebook and held it out to Cedric.

"Could you hold this for me, please? Corsets don't generally come with pockets."

"I'm not a human pack-mule, you know," he lightly chided her as he tucked it into his robes.

"Of course you aren't. You're my escort!"

Cedric's eyebrows rose to his hairline. "That's hardly appropriate, Princess."

"But more inappropriate would be my sneaking into the ball, this ball in particular, late and unescorted." Sofia's smile was playful and pleading and difficult to resist.

"I already told you, you're not late." Cedric protested half-heartedly, trying to discourage Sofia. She waved a hand in the air dismissively.

"If Baileywick sent you to find me, then I'm already too late for Amber's liking. If I delay any longer, she'll likely flutter her fan at me so hard her wrist will fall off and we can't have a one-handed Queen, now can we?" Sofia hurried to the door and looked back with a too-innocent smile. "Don't let me get into any more trouble than I already am. Please?"

Cedric stared at her for a moment, overtaken by her. How could he deny her? She was right. She required an escort and here he stood. Cedric gave a resigned sigh and followed her to the door, leaving the library together.

Cedric matched Sofia's hurried but graceful pace as they wound through the castle's twisting hallways. Just down the hall from where the ball was being held, Sofia stopped. She looked up at Cedric and he down at her. She quirked an eyebrow imploringly and he sighed, shaking his head as small smirk played across his lips. He held out his hand, palm down to parallel the floor, and felt the weight of Sofia's hand upon his. Cedric curbed his delight at her touch by schooling his thoughts to dull things. Things like the conversations he was likely to endure over the next two hours and forty three minutes until he could escape to keep the Ghostwalk Potion's strict schedule. But he couldn't help but to stand a little straighter with Sofia on his arm.

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Nothing in the ballroom shone quite as brightly as Amber did in her golden gown. Sofia and Cedric had arrived with exactly enough time to be seated at the head table before Amber was announced and entered alone, basking in the attention. The King met her and they opened the ball with the first dance before they, too, seated themselves at the head table to enjoy the feast Amber had painstakingly planned through weeks of trial and error.

Sofia was immensely pleased to be seated beside Cedric for the meal. The conversation between them was light and friendly, often causing Sofia to laugh and Cedric to favor her with an occasional, miniscule curl of his lips that she knew to shelter a hidden grin. He was strikingly handsome, especially tonight. Lithe and dark in robes that made him stand out as different and powerful from the other ordinary men in the room. It seemed that Lucinda's meddling was good for something after all as Sofia was now pleased to feel a distinct lack of blush across her face as she considered her Master in more familiar terms.

Less successful was an exchange Sofia shared with Amber. Thinking she had arrived to the ball with plenty of time, Sofia caught Amber's eyes and smiled. Without a single break in the lilt of her conversation, Amber's eyes had shifted to lock with Sofia's, glared admonishingly, and snapped right back to her conversation. Sofia exhaled a slightly defeated sigh, though she couldn't help but to admire her sister. That kind of social acrobatics were skills Sofia had never come to fully grasp, despite many years of Amber's coaching.

Champagne was being passed around the room. The annunciation was imminent. Cedric ignored his glass, favoring a cup of sweetened coffee instead. He had taken a pocketwatch from his robes to check the time when Sofia gasped.

"The potion!"

Cedric looked up at her quizzically. "What about it?"

"I'm such a clod!"

"Well that's the farthest thing from the truth," he mummered. Sofia swatted his arm.

"How could you let me shirk off potion duty all week? Have you even slept?" She pressed the heel of her hand to her forehead, careful not to smudge the makeup that had been so carefully applied. "I"m a terrible, terrible clod." She brought the hand to Cedric's forearm. "I'm so sorry, Cedric."

Cedric's hand moved to hers. It encompassed hers and squeezed it with what definitely felt like affection.

"It's fine, Sofia." There was a delightful warmth to his voice. "You've clearly had other things on your mind."

Sofia couldn't help this blush as she pulled her hand away quickly and demurely looked away. In that moment when Cedric said just her bare name she had seen it; that look that Lucinda had described. It made Sofia feel as though she was the only woman in the room, in the world. She was completely overwhelmed to find that it actually existed, like stumbling across a mythological beast in the flesh. It was beyond the concern of teacher for pupil or friend for friend. His look was genuinely worried, full of tenderness, and, dare she think it, loving.

Cedric's mask of propriety had been replaced by the time Sofia looked back to him. He now looked at her evenly, though worry played on the corners of his expression.

"That's no excuse. I'm sorry. I beg you, please accept my apology."

"There's nothing to-"

"And I'll start up tonight. You'll rest and I'll stay up."

"Princess, that's unnec-"

"No arguing. I need to make up for this past week."

"As I was trying to say-"

"So, you should stop drinking that cof-"

"Apprentice," Cedric said sternly enough to stop Sofia but quietly enough not to draw attention. Sofia pressed her lips together, chastened by her subservient title. "Your apology is accepted." Cedric spoke in a hushed, clipped voice. "You will not, however, start this evening, thus robbing me of a perfectly legitimate excuse to escape this ball early. I will expect you in the morning for the seven-twenty-three stir. Understood?"

"One dance." Sofia folded her arms across her chest, but smiled. She had the look of incorrigible determination on her face.

"Excuse me?" Cedric raised an eyebrow at her response.

"That's my fee. For you to leave early instead of me running up to stir the potion and then running back down here, which you would also be perfectly capable of doing, by the way. One dance."

Cedric huffed a sigh and rolled his eyes. "Yes, yes alright. As long as you don't go on about the potion any longer, you pesky little thing."

Sofia smiled widely, recognizing this particular acerbic tone of her Master's as his more playful one. But there was no time to dwell on the exchange as trumpets sounded in the ballroom. It was time for Amber to officially announce her intentions for the throne and, subsequently, become the most eligible and desirable woman in the Tri-Kingdom area.

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The annunciation went as expected, but the Royals still beamed with pride as Amber handed her mother her tiara. Her father placed a more regal crown on her head. It was only ceremonial for this evening. In the morning, she would return to princess tiaras and remain in them up until the time His Royal Highness King Roland II abdicated to Amber. Which, from the stress Cedric noted that was poorly hidden behind the eyes of the King, might be sooner rather than later.

Cedric watched the ceremony from the head table, attempting not to look too bored while in the public eye. His fingers itched to check his pocket watch to see how much longer he would have to endure this gathering and how much longer he would have to avoid Sofia's dance.

This wasn't the first time she had finagled a dance out of him. Desperate not to be embarrassed, she had begged him to practice with her when she was still a girl. He was not inclined to help her at the time. But, Sofia being Sofia, she had found a way to convince him. He could have never imagined the girl he knew then would become the woman he knew now.

Cedric had stopped seeing her as a member of the fairer sex years ago. He had been so focused on his royal duties, his sought after power, and his role as Master to Sofia's Apprentice that he had come to think of Sofia as just Sofia, the sexually neutral student, and not as Sofia, the woman. This week had changed that. Something about the way she had confessed her gratitude to him after she saved the man in the village and the fact that she had retreated to him when she felt vulnerable the next morning had made him suddenly...aware of her.

Cedric wasn't the only man in the room to notice her. Sofia rarely returned to her seat once the dancing began, constantly being swept from partner to partner. She seemed to be enjoying herself, her laughter genuine. But her eyes were frequently trained back to Cedric. She caught his gaze once and he held her eyes intensely before she broke away, turned back to whatever dance she was twirling. Cedric chided himself admonishingly as he nursed his coffee. Sofia was too good for him. The hunger inside Cedric that yearned for power was not a beautiful, light thing. It wasn't something she would easily understand. It wasn't something he wanted to darken her with, soil her with. It would be better to be alone than to taint Sofia's purity.

Of course, Cedric hadn't been completely alone over the years. Though private, he was no hermit. Fame and strength had brought lovers in and out of his life. They never stayed long. They were only interested in the powerful celebrity and impatient with the actual man. His sardonic tongue and single-minded devotion to his work, even over a pliable woman trying to tempt him back to bed, had marred any potential relationships.

Sofia would give herself completely to whomever she chose. She could never be a blip of a lover. But Cedric believed that's all he could give her, if he had her as a lover at all. He was too dedicated to the drug-like high the power of his magic gave him. She deserved more than that. She was talented and driven, charismatic and beautiful. She deserved to be loved wholly, to be worshiped and cherished. She deserved to be the first priority of whomever held her heart.

Cedric took a slow sip of coffee as he considered it. Could he be that lover?

The answer came in the form of a thrum of yearning for yet more strength, unyielding in its possession.

He couldn't. Not now. Not yet.

His decision made, Cedric felt firm resolve, a painful twinge of disappointment, and grim ownership over the feelings that he had unintentionally harbored for his Apprentice, recently awakened. Now things would surely return to how they had been. Cedric's checked his pocket watch. A mere half hour remained until the potion would require his ministration. That, as far as he was concerned, was close enough to time that he could make an excuse to leave. He stood from the head table, unnoticed as all the other occupants were now either on the dance floor or deeply engrossed in conversation. Cedric moved along the outskirts of the ballroom and stepped out onto the veranda to bypass the crowd of party guests. The night air was crisp, nipping at his face as he walked briskly towards the opposite end of the veranda, intending to slip back into the ballroom much closer to a servant's door where he would be less noticed slinking away.

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 **A/N:**

 **This was getting long (damn chatty characters) so I cut it short, even though it's a bit abrupt.**

 **As always, thank you for your reviews, follows, and favorites!**


	9. Chapter 9

Give Me Your Riches: Chapter Nine

The veranda was blessedly empty, the cooler air likely keeping the guests inside. In a few long strides, Cedric had nearly reached his exit when the doors behind him in the center of the veranda opened and Sofia slipped through them, silently closing them behind her. Cedric froze, caught, preparing himself for a lecture on lying and promise making and deal breaking. But Sofia didn't look to him. She rushed to the stone bench in front of her and sat down. She released a long-held, disappointed sigh; her breath visible in the chill night.

Cedric didn't move, partially in an effort not to get caught sneaking away and partially because Sofia's silent form had him transfixed. She seemed so distant from the world around her. He watched as she wrapped her arms around elbows, holding herself. And, as if holding herself just wasn't enough, she leaned forward, her forehead resting against her knees. He watched her upper body rack with one shaking sob before it was too much for him to watch. He was beside her in an instant, a sympathetic hand coming to rest on her shoulder.

Sofia jumped at his touch, unfolding immediately and smoothly wiping a tear away, replacing it with a hasty smile. "Hello," she said with artificial brightness. "I j-just love autumn nights, don't you?"

Cedric gave her a long look. Sofia's smile slowly faded as she wiped away a second stray tear.

"I'm fine. It's fine. It's nothing. I'm just...frustrated."

"With?"

"Nothing." She looked down, smoothing her skirts with her hands. Cedric sat down beside her. A voice in his head immediately screamed at him to stand up and leave. She could take this the wrong way. _He_ could take this the wrong way. Had he not established for himself, not even three minutes ago, that Sofia was his student and nothing, _nothing_ else? But logic was unable to stop him from clasping Sofia's hand in his own and giving it a few comforting pats.

"How much longer until you tell me what's happened, Apprentice?" Cedric asked softly, citing her biddable title to nudge her towards sharing her thoughts and certainly not to remind himself yet again of exactly who she was to him.

Sofia stared down at their hands. Cedric followed her gaze. Her hand looked so small inside of his. She turned ever so slightly into him as the exposed skin on her upper arms and shoulders turned to gooseflesh in the cold. "You're not as dark and brooding as you want people to believe, you know. You are far more kind than you let on," she said, evading his question with a small smile. And he, being the fool he was around Sofia, chased the evasive bait.

Cedric scoffed dismissively. "You're too generous. I am selfish and cruel and extremely unreasonable."

"And compassionate and thoughtful and kind."

"Only to those who deserve kindness."

"Oh, I disagree. I think you're kind to most people."

"I am suffering of most people and adept at biting my tongue, a skill honed over decades. I am kind to my mother. To my niece. To you."

Their banter lost its rhythm as their eyes met. Sofia's eyes were glistening with the threat of more tears.

"Cedric, I -" A small, mechanical chime from Cedric's pocket interrupted her. Cedric silently thanked the gods of time and cursed them in the same breath.

"It's ten." He spoke quietly, almost reverent of this moment spent so close to her. "I need to get up to the tower. And you need to get inside before you catch your death in that dress." He got to his feet, drawing Sofia up with him. He disentangled himself from her grip and gave her a quick bow. Before he could turn away, Sofia grabbed his hand again.

"You promised me a dance," she said stubbornly, matching his quietly reverent tone.

"I'll give you the dance once you're ready to tell me happened a week ago." He dropped her hand and turned. She, predictably, followed behind him and grabbed his arm, turning him around again.

"That wasn't our agreement."

"Agreements change, Princess. I thought you would have known that by now. But I really must go." His tone was brisk as he tried to escape.

"Well then I'm coming with you."

Cedric stopped and sputtered. "B-b-but surely you'll be missed? The ball -"

"-is quickly devolving to the same sort of unstructured conviviality it always does. I've done my part. I won't be missed." Sofia walked ahead of Cedric, her quick steps taking her to the door while Cedric stared after her. She stopped at the far door and beckoned him along. "Aren't you coming?"

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Cedric and Sofia fell into long-practiced routine as they entered the tower together. They both abandoned their shoes by the door as they came in. Sofia lined them up neatly beside the wall as Cedric shed his formal robes and exchanged them for a ratty and oft-patched set hanging from a peg near the door. Sofia retrieved her notebook from a pocket in Cedric's now-hanging formal robes and made her way to the study as Cedric moved across the room to his work table. He took up a stirring stick in one hand and held his pocket watch in the other, staring intently at it as he waited for the time to change to 10:23.

Sofia sat beside the hearth of the study's fireplace instead of her chair so she could better capture the light from the flickering flames as she read. Her silvery gown draped around her in an accidental sort of of elegance. She eventually lost track of time, nose down in her notes as she slowly pulled out hairpin after hairpin until her hair fell down loose around her shoulders, She didn't notice Cedric behind her shoulder until he spoke, reading aloud.

"Troll masons known for dark stonework. Lighter stone variety not unheard of, but uncommon?"

Sofia shut her book and placed it in her lap, turning her head to the side so her voice could carry behind her. "It's not polite to eavesdrop."

"Good thing I wasn't eavesdropping." Sofia could hear his smirk.

"You know what I mean, oh irascible one."

"Just for that," he said as he got down to sit beside her on the ground, his back pressing up against his footstool and warming his socked feet beside the fire, "I should have you cleaning out cauldrons for a week."

"Well it's a good thing for me I'm not here in my Apprentice capacity, now isn't it?"

Cedric prodded his finger in the air towards the fire and the wood shifted as though his finger had the same power as a fire poker. "Loophole," he muttered.

"And there's that signature kindness sneaking through again." Sofia grinned. She resituated herself to sit like he was, back pressed up against her own footstool, bare feet resting before the hearth. "How can you even stand it?" she needled.

They didn't speak for a long while, sitting in congenial silence and watching the fire. The warmth lulled Sofia into a drowsy sort of comfort. The flames transformed before her eyes, little birds and butterflies flicking in and out of existence. She didn't need to look at Cedric to know he was the one putting on the show. She could see him in her mind's eye without looking at him; his face relaxed, fingers idly flicking in the air as he brought magic into even the smallest of moments. Just as she started to long for something warm to drink to complete the picture, a mug of mulled cider appeared by her side and she heard one pop into existence beside Cedric, as well. She smiled, cupping the drink with both hands and holding it to her face so she could breathe in the scent of apples drowned in cinnamon, clove, and cardamon with just enough brandy to warm her insides all the way down to her toes. She took an uninhibited sip, knowing Cedric would have conjured it at the perfect temperature, and sighed contentedly as the flavors of autumn mixed in her mouth.

There was an ease here that was only found in long friendships. Sofia found safety from the informal familiarity of it all. The cozy warmth of the study, the subtle spice of her favorite drink, Cedric's comforting presence. A moment like this would turn into a memory Sofia would tuck away and call upon in trying moments, which seemed to be appearing more and more frequently.

And then a staggering thought flew into her mind.

" _Could I lose this? Could pursuing Cedric beyond our current bounds run the risk of losing moments like this? Would thinking of him, pursuing him romantically, be a foolish choice? Would it do nothing but mar strongest friendship and bring it to ruin?"_

Sofia's heart ached at the thought of it. Her life would be less without him in it. Certainly there was the possibility it would all work out famously. But if there was even the smallest chance of failure, of losing him completely, would it be worth the risk?

"It has something to do with your father," Cedric's voice was low and gentle, breaking Sofia from her thoughts. "You've said that much."

Sofia didn't respond. They both continued to stare into the fire, only moving to take sips of their respective drinks.

Cedric broke the silence again. "An easier question, then. Why did you leave the ball?"

Sofia drummed her fingers against her mug, considering her words before speaking. "It sounds incredibly childish without knowing the entire story."

"By all means then, enlighten me."

She sighed heavily. "I think my father is hiding something from me and I left the ball because he refused to dance with me...to the song we always dance to."

Cedric took a thoughtful sip from his mug. "You're right," he said finally. "It does sound incredibly childish without knowing the entire story."

Sofia turned her head to look at him, affronted. Cedric returned her gaze in mocked bewilderment. "I apologize." He made a show of clearing his throat and began again. "How _dreadful_. What a _terrible_ story." His words dripped with sarcasm.

Sofia rolled her eyes, but finally found the nerve to tell Cedric her story.

"The day before I started the Ghostwalk Potion, I was in the older gardens collecting ingredients. I came across this strange old well. When I asked Baileywick about it after dinner, my father became extremely angry. He apologized a couple days later, but forbade me from going back there again. Things have been strained between us since." Sofia paused, anxiety creasing her brow. "Something about the well set him off, I'm sure of it. But he won't talk to me - won't even look at me. So...I've been researching."

Sofia flicked her fingers at the fire, distractedly trying to mimic Cedric's birds and butterflies. She only succeeded at softening the fire to near embers, the flame resistant to her magical touch. She frowned. "A week of work has yielded practically nothing I didn't already know and my gut screaming at me that something is wrong. It could be nothing. I could just be making this up to be something far bigger than it is. But I haven't been sleeping well. My intuition says something is off."

"Trust your intuition, Sofia." A bare wave of Cedric's hand and the fire came returned to life, the crackling now sounding less merry and more menacing to Sofia's ears. "Your intuition tends to be eerily spot-on when it comes to people, though I regret to see it put you through so much angst."

"It's causing all these horrible images to run through my head about my father, and he's not helping by being so evasive. I can barely stand it." Sofia ran her free hand up her arm, trying to find some comfort for herself.

Cedric nodded knowingly. "It's difficult to see your father as just a man, imperfect and sometimes inadequate. Fathers seem...flawless. Men, less so."

Sofia shifted her position, folding her legs under her and leaning in towards Cedric. She put down her mug and clutched her notebook in one hand. "The strangest part so far has been the lack of information about the construction of the well. You should see the meticulous records in the library. They tracked everything - every fireplace, every gazebo, every repaired step. Someone, the builder I'm assuming, recorded what kind of stone was used and where the materials came from and the cost..."

"That doesn't sound strange at all."

Sofia leaned in closer as if she was divulging a secret. "The well has a date. That's it. And it falls during my grandfather's reign."

"I suppose that does lend itself to...intrigue." Cedric sounded reluctant, as if agreeing with her would encourage her in all the worst ways.

"What do you remember about my Grandfather?"

"About Roland the First? I barely met the man. Boarding at Hexley, remember?"

"Well, what about your parents?"

"You would have to ask them," Cedric shrugged.

"Why don't we! It's been ages since I've seen them, which means it's been even longer since you've seen them." Sofia got to her feet as if to leave immediately. She desperately wanted something to ease the twisting in her gut that had taken residence there. It was entirely possible that that Goodwin the Great would be filled with the exact knowledge that would help to quell her intuition of something being not quite right.

"Slow down, Sofia." Cedric held his hands out as though he was trying to sooth a wild horse. "It's late. We can't leave until morning."

"So you'll go?"

"If you sit back down," he coaxed. "Tell me about this well you found."

But Sofia couldn't possibly sit. She started to pace, her thumb running across the spine of her notebook over and over again; a new nervous habit. She trod on her skirt with every fifth stride or so, the length of the gown was not accommodating to her barefooted height.

"It's enchanted, that's for certain. It's in this abandoned square of the hedgerows, overgrown and easily twice my height. There's a gate that someone built a wall in front of, by hand, not magic. And that wall isn't anywhere in the records. The well has this dilapidated little roof built above it and it spoke with this eerie voice and I _remembered_. Amber turned me into a cat when I was nine by wishing on a well and it must have been _that_ well because I remembered that little courtyard."

"Hold on a moment - Amber turned you into a cat?"

"You don't remember?" Sofia paused, cocking her head to the side; her rambling recollection pausing in favor of this new train of thought. "The first thing I did was come up to your tower to try and get you to turn me back into a person. You can't tell me you don't remember a purple cat who opened your spellbook to ask to be turned into a human."

"I faintly recall shooing a surprisingly pushy purple cat from my tower." He tapped a finger on his chin and spoke in a dry, jesting tone. "Do you think you could possibly explain to me why I have no shock at this new knowledge that you and that cat are one and the same?"

Sofia fixed him with a flat look that resembled one of his own. Cedric was unable to conceal the twitch of a smirk on his lips in response. Sofia crossed her arms.

"Now what's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing nefarious, I assure you. It's simply that in the wide array of positive adjectives that describe you, there are some that, while synonymous, have a very different meaning in different applications." Cedric's rhythm fell naturally into the one he reserved for his lectures. Sofia listened, her expression mildly amused. "For example: you have achieved the admirable quality, in your hereditary position, of being commanding. However, on the other side of that same coin, you do have the less endearing quality of being rather pushy when you're after something."

Sofia's mouth briefly gaped open, resenting his description, before she snapped her mouth shut and lifted her chin. "Fine."

"Fine?" Cedric stared up at Sofia as she did a rather impressive job at lording over him. He still sat leaning against the footstool. He quirked a curious eyebrow and Sofia felt her stomach somersault before she ordered it back to stillness.

"Fine," she said with even greater emphasis on the word. "Stand up."

"Why? What are you doing?" he asked, his words entwined with mild suspicion.

"I'm being commanding. Or pushy. Whichever you'd rather tell yourself." Sofia fixed him with her most princess-polished stare of authority.

Cedric chuckled and put down his mug before getting to his feet. "Alright, then. Now what, Your Oh-Most-Royal Highness?"

"You owe me a dance. Or did you think you'd get away without it?" She set her notebook down atop the seat of her armchair. Cedric crossed his arms and shook his head slightly, his smirk still present and inexplicably drawing Sofia closer to him, inch by inch. All of her worry about the strength of their friendship faltering in the face of her romantic feelings quickly trickled away as she stared up at that smirk. His confidence, his sardonic teasing, the way a few strands of his hair had fallen out of their tie at the nape of his neck. All these things and more were sending flutters to her chest and a heat to her belly. Acknowledging these feelings to herself with such firmness, instead of disparaging and pushing them away, was giving her the courage to stay the course she had started. Even when she knew Cedric would deftly deter her.

"You changed the terms of our bargain when you followed me up here, Princess."

"I disagree. The terms were that I would be here in the morning for the seven twenty-three stir and that I would not rob you of the opportunity to leave the ball early." Sofia slowly advanced towards him as she spoke, shortening the distance between them to just two steps. "It seems to me that the conditions of the bargain have been met, except for my being here in the morning, though I assure you that I will be."

"There was a caveat at the end that you're forgetting. You weren't to go on about the potion any longer."

"Insubstantial. I mentioned it as a reference point in the story of the rift between me and my father and just now to assure you that I would be here in the morning to tend to it." She sounded like a student presenting a thesis to her teacher. Sofia bit her lip, hoping that she hadn't taken one step forward in pushing for the dance just to take two steps back in using the tone of Sofia the Apprentice instead of just Sofia. A Sofia who just wanted Cedric to see her as something more.

His eyes narrowed as he considered her argument. "I'm not getting out of this, am I?"

"Nope." Her face was smug, though she was holding back a desire to jump up and down.

"Well...there's no music."

"You are a sorcerer, aren't you?" She teased.

Cedric held her eyes for a long moment. Then, he drew his wand out of his pocket and pointed it at the gramophone in the corner. A waltz began to creak out of the bell, the sound of the piano soft and scratchy. Sofia reached into a pocket of her gown and withdrew her own wand. She pointed it at the gramophone and the music changed. The piano was joined by a swell of violin and cello, flute and clarinet; the sound shifting from something distantly recorded to the sound of a live tiny orchestra somehow playing from within the gramophone.

Cedric quirked an impressed eyebrow at Sofia's improvised spellwork and she beamed at his approval. They vanished their wands in unison. Before she could risk him changing his mind, Sofia took a step forward and closed the gap between them. She took Cedric's right hand and placed it on her waist. She placed her left hand on his shoulder and took his left hand in her right hand. She thought that his posture felt especially stiff, but she dismissed it. It was easier to credit stiff posture to the nature of a waltz than to think on any other causes. Sofia could feel the warmth of his palm through the fabric at her waist. Before she had the chance to reflect on how that made her feel, that same palm applied just enough pressure to warn her that they were about to move.

Sofia was surprised. The last time she had convinced Cedric to dance with her when she was still just a girl, Cedric was barely a step above having two left feet. Things had changed. Cedric moved with an elegance that Sofia had come to associate with his spell-casting. He was smooth, assured, and composed, moving her about the room with discipline and grace. And he didn't just hold her in his arms, completing the simplest obligations the waltz called for. He was spinning her out and away from him before catching her free hand and drawing her back in. Sofia arched her neck to the side, leaning into the spin as was traditional, and straightened to find his eyes locked onto hers. His eyes were...softer. Oh, his face was as stoic as it ever was, but there was pleasure and warmth there, no longer hidden below but blatantly on the surface.

They turned around the room again and again, keeping perfect time with the music. It was only after a few minutes that Sofia realized that the study was exceptionally full of furniture for the two of them not to have bumped into anything by now. For that matter, she should have stepped on her skirts by now, too. She reluctantly broke her gaze away from Cedric's, looked around, and exhaled an astonished "Oh!"

They were floating six feet in the air, their steps tracing across empty space. She giggled, enchanted by the magic of it all and when she found Cedric's eyes again. He was smiling. The expression was slightly foreign on his face but not unwelcome. It made him more handsome, bringing out the glints of gold in his eyes and the tiniest laugh lines around the corners of his lips.

The music crescendoed and Cedric dropped both his hands to Sofia's waist to lift her into the air, her skirts flowing behind her, as he sent her spinning around the room. They laughed together as he brought her back into his arms. He stopped spinning, changing instead to slower turns about the room with Sofia held warmly in his arms. His hold was different now. Closer. More familiar.

The distance between them disappeared. They were inappropriately close for a waltz, or any courtly dance for that matter, but Sofia couldn't bring herself to care. She was happy here with Cedric. And that happiness wasn't from academic praise for her wand motion or potion ingredient preparation. It was simple pleasure. He was happy, too. It was undeniable. His magic lifting them up revealed feelings that couldn't be, and wouldn't be, ignored. Sofia drank in his gaze, thirsty for the joy he was emanating, joy that had something, anything to do with her. He turned her out slowly and pulled her back in even closer, his legs practically buried in the bulk of her skirts. His hand felt as though it had found a comfortable home at the small of her back. Sofia felt breathless, and not just from dancing. She spoke,

"This is -"

" _Amazing? Incredible? Dream-like? Something I wish would never end? Hold me like this always, please?"_ Words in Sofia's mind bubbled over and she struggled to choose the right ones.

"- better than I could have imagined."

Just as the words left her lips, they lurched down a foot in the air. It was as if reality abruptly caught up with Cedric, causing him to falter. Sofia clung to him, startled, before they both acclimated to the new height and moved to finish the dance. But when they stepped out again, Cedric had adjusted his hold, stiffening to where his arms had been at the beginning of the waltz. The hold wasn't quite sterile, but it certainly wasn't as intimate as it had been only seconds before. The music wound down to a soft finale and it was only a few more seconds before both pairs of feet landed lightly on the ground. Cedric gave Sofia a formal bow, to which she returned a slightly bemused curtsey.

"You should go," he said, his breathing rapid, like hers, from the athleticism of the dance. His face was smooth and almost blank, his emotions back behind his mask.

"After just one dance?" She panted out with a hopeful smile, her hand unconsciously pressed against her chest to try and calm her galloping heart.

"You should rest," he said, deflecting her request. "It's late. Morning is practically upon us and you and I made a deal." His tone brokered no play. Sofia blinked a few times in quick succession, barely able to keep up with the sudden change in mood. Unlike the previous week, Cedric wasn't being rude or unkind, but he was definitely sending her away. That waltz was incredible. Fun but profound, jovial but important. Years in the making and so, so precious. Was it possible he didn't weigh it with the same importance that she did?

It wasn't until she felt the tips of Cedric's fingers barely touching her shoulders to turn her to the stairs that she realized she had been truly dismissed. She didn't really remember walking up the steps of the study to the main floor, or Cedric handing over her little notebook and her shoes.

What she did remember was the way Cedric held the door slightly ajar after she had stepped into the hallway and said, in a voice barely above a murmur, " goodnight...Sofia" before the door shut tightly behind her.

Sofia's breath caught to hear him say her name. The delivery was so personal, so quietly warm. She smiled and rather dreamily meandered to her rooms, still a little befuddled but too caught up in the memory of the dance to really care.

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 **A/N: Hellooooooo again! First off - THANK YOU! Thank you for your patience with me as I slowly got back to this story. It has my full writing attention and I'm excited to get the ball rolling again. I have the next five chapters well outlined (assuming the characters don't get too chatty. If they do, I might have the next six or seven chapters well outlined...). The climax of Riches came to me in a flash today and I'm *very* excited about it. At this point, I'm thinking this story will hit somewhere around 20 chapters, but I'm letting the characters take the lead which, for me, means having a very flexible plan. So we shall see. :)**

 **Thank you for sticking with me!**

 **And, as always, here is my author's plea for reviews: even the tiniest, single-worded review is meaningful. If I didn't want the satisfaction of hearing from you, the reader, I would never publish my work. And, let's be honest, with my theatre background, I sort of sustain my life on applause. Please feed the writer! Thank you taking the time out of your day to read my work!**


	10. Chapter 10

Give Me Your Riches: Chapter Ten

Roland pressed his hand against the frame of the doorway of the auxiliary grounds entrance to the castle as he paused to catch his breath and steady his breathing. He had been summoned. _He_ had been summoned by the King himself and Roland was terrified. He had only seen the King from afar, in parades or occasionally when he took walks around the grounds while Roland was working. It would be entirely out of character for the King to summon Roland, a lowly gardener, to be praised so the summons had immediately filled Roland with dread. In the hope of lessening the blow that was surely awaiting him, he had made quick time to the castle doors, pausing only now to brush his soil-stained hands against his pants and straighten his hair before walking into the castle.

The grounds of the Enchancian castle were never quite good enough for the king. They never would be. How could man-made work ever compete with magic the aristocracy had access to? But the King refused to provide the groundskeepers with any magical assistance. And so they continued to disappoint him and so the work hours continued to grow. The stress was becoming unbearable, but what could Roland do? He had to keep working. He had to continue providing for his family as best he could. Groundskeeping was his only skill and the meager money he made left no cent unspent. There would never be enough to move his family to another kingdom, or even to another town. He was stuck. Trapped under the bloated thumb of the King.

For several weeks, Roland had only seen a shadow of his family as he crept in and out of his home in the darkness of midnight or pre-dawn, praying not to disturb their slumbering. He knew that, more often than not, Ceres was awake when he left and when he returned. He sometimes caught her eyes, glistening faintly with tears, snapping shut as soon as he looked at her. She would conveniently shift away in her sleep when Roland leaned in to kiss her farewell. It left him feeling torn. Something was going on with her and he couldn't understand it. Children were supposed to bring such joy and yet she seemed listless, even when pretending to sleep. The two of them desperately needed to discuss the tension and distance that had grown between them. But it was so much easier to be two ships passing in the night, seeing and never speaking. And so Ceres continued to pretend to sleep and Roland continued to pretend he believed her as he left each day to lose himself in the impossible demands of his work.

Roland was escorted, not unkindly, by a guard into the Great Hall where the King, occasionally, listened to supplications from his people. But that was a joke, bitterly laughed at by villagers. The King didn't care for his people, no matter what facade he tried to occasionally tend to. Enchancia and its King did well enough without the love of its people. It was well defended and the people weren't starving. But it suffered from calculated neglect with just enough aid coming at just the right moment to quell the flames of hate and whispers of rebellion. It made Roland want to spit. A King was supposed to care for his people, to be involved and hands-on when the job required it. The people should be able to see their King as a man, just like them. They didn't deserve a pompous, egotist and the King didn't deserve them.

But for all Roland's dislike, distrust, and hate for his liege, standing mere feet away was unnerving enough to shake his rebellious resolve into submission before the King. King Cedric the Great.

King Cedric radiated threefold power. First, there was the power of his coin. He was impeccably clean and kempt, richly dressed, well fed and fit. A purple pendant was hanging around his neck on a long chain and a few rings weighed down his fingers. Then there was the power of his position as King. He sat upon a throne, made of rare dark wood inlaid with veins of gold with accented with a plush green cushion. From that throne, he held command and power over every person he saw, uncompromising in his own desires with little care for little else. Even being the youngest man in the room, he was intimidating. And then there was the power of his magic. It was said that everyone had the capacity to perform some level of magic, but it simply wasn't taught to the common folk. And King Cedric was said to be especially skilled. Even Roland could see it now that he stood this close to him, breathing in the same air; his Majesty seemed to quietly hum with magical energy, like heat shimmering off a hot stone. This threefold power made the King ooze a self-righteous confidence that unnerved Roland, chasing away his disdain and replacing it with a healthy amount of awed fear.

"Your Highness," the guard said, his voice weighted with respect, "this is the gardener you sent for." He urged Roland forward with a firm press against his shoulder and then stepped away, leaving Roland alone before the monarch.

King Cedric looked down at Roland. Roland, despite his near-constant personal feelings of loathing for the King, found it very difficult to meet his eye. He settled on staring at the King's chest, allowing his head to remain slightly dipped in a subservient posture. Roland _hated_ himself for it, his skin immediately dripping in both self-loathing and sweat. The King continued to stare down at him, cruel and calculating. He made an offhanded gesture to the side door of the hall. It opened and a woman was escorted through it, a guard on each arm. Her face was flushed red with anger. While the guards may have been necessary to control her before, now she was calm. Rigid, but calm.

"I've been informed that... _this_ belongs to you, gardener?"

Roland's mouth dropped open as his eyes darted between the King to his wife. He was unable speak, unable to form words on his tongue.

"She seemed to be having some sort of fit when she barged in," King Cedric said, idly spinning a golden ring around his finger. "She was screaming about how you've been so mistreated by the requirements of your station. That your work isn't fairly compensated." He locked eyes with Roland's, daring him to contradict his King. "Do you feel that way, gardener? For there are others who would happily shoulder the so-called burden of working for the crown. Others who would gladly accept its coin."

"N-n-no, your Majesty! No, please, no. I love my work here - m-m-my wife - stress. She's been so stressed, you see, we have twins and she - I apologize, your Majesty."

King Cedric narrowed his eyes in consideration of Roland's response and smirked. "I don't care, really."

Roland swallowed back bile, anxious and panicked at the prospect of losing his station. It was the only means of livelihood for his family. Forgoing his pride, he got down on his knees. King Cedric quirked a curious eyebrow.

" _Please_ , your Majesty, I beg of you. My work is no burden. Please allow me to stay."

The satisfied tone that followed nearly made Roland sick upon the polished, marble floor as he bowed his head before his King. "Fortunately for you I'm feeling lenient this day. I warn you, however, to control your woman. Do not allow this to happen again, gardener."

"Y-yes, my King," Roland said with a deep bow as he stood. "Of course, my King. Never again, your Majesty." Roland was escorted out the door, Ceres and her guards alongside them. Once they were out the door, Roland asked one of them to pass a message along to his superiors that he needed to escort his wife home and would make up the missed time that evening

Ceres scoffed. Roland's eyes snapped to hers. One look, laden with embarrassment and anger, was enough to hold her tongue. They walked home in silence.

"Where are the children?" Roland asked woodenly as he opened the door to an empty house. He took his chair at the table and turned it around to straddle it, leaning his chest against the backing and scrubbing his hands over his face before resting them on his knees.

"Mrs. Hanshaw is watching them until tomorrow morning." Ceres stood in the middle of the room, her arms crossed, her face hauntingly blank.

"Isn't she about to burst, herself?"

"She said she didn't mind the practice."

"So you were planning on, what, getting thrown into stocks? Or a cell?! You left here, left your children, and went to yell _at the King_ and -"

"I went to stand up for my family! To stand up to that bully who keeps my husband away from his family."

"He doesn't do it to keep me away. It's not directed solely at you, solely at us. It's this way for everyone."

"Oh sure, defend him. Go ahead and defend the man you claim to hate while you grovel at his feet."

"I didn't grovel," Roland said in a dangerous, low growl. "I did what I had to do to save my job; to fix your mistake."

"My mistake!?"

"Yes. Your mistake." He stood from his chair quickly, knocking it down to the floor. The clatter echoed in the room before Roland spoke again. "You could have lost me my job, Ceres. And then where would we be? Broke. Literally penniless."

"It would be better that way! Why can't you see that? You would be home. The twins would have their father. And I would have my husband back. We'd have a life together. I need you here, Roland. I can't do this on my own! It's too much for me!"

"We wouldn't have much of a life together while we all starved to death out in the cold with no roof over our heads! Gods, Ceres! I can't understand how you think it would somehow be okay if we had no money, if I had no job. Why can't you get it through your head that you and the twins being able to eat is more important than me spending time with my children?"

Ceres shook her head. "This is more important. Having you here is more important. Them having their father as a presence in their life. Not just a shadow -"

"Them having a mother is just as important, Ceres." Roland didn't bother to dilute the acid in his quiet, terse words. Ceres blanched and took a deep breath, trying to steady herself.

"I am trying. I am trying so hard. You just don't see it. You don't understand how hard it is for me. I'm doing as much as -"

"But it isn't enough," he snapped back, "or you wouldn't be so obsessed with my presence here. It isn't like I run off with the rise of every sun to skip through fields without a care in the world. I am a father to those children." His voice cracked as he bit back angry tears, pointing at their empty crib for emphasis. "The fact that they have a roof over their heads and food in their bellies shows what a damn good father I am. But what do you do for them?"

"I-"

But Roland's anger was boiling up from his gut. He rampaged on, spewing verbal rage. Months of loneliness, of exhaustion, of embarrassment sent his temper into a frenzy.

"You leave them with other people to go fruitlessly yell at a monarch and embarrass me. You endanger my job, endanger my ability to be a good father. You don't play with the children. You don't read to them, or hold them when they cry. And thank the Gods they have each other or they'd never know comfort as they certainly don't know it from you. You lament for your own suffering and think nothing of their well being. When will you stop putting yourself first and think of Amber and James instead?"

Ceres turned away from Roland, her lips pressed together in a tight line. "I don't have to stand here and listen to this," she said in a fierce whisper. She moved across the one-room house. She picked up a carpet bag beside the dresser, opened a drawer, and sloppily packed the contents into the bag. There was a long moment of silence as she packed and Roland watched. Ceres stopped and rested her hands against the dresser, leaning against it for support, her eyes focused on her hands.

"Where are you going to go?" His words bashed at her quiet resolve.

"Why do you care?" She turned her head to snarl up at him, her eyes shooting daggers. "I'm hurting. I'm suffering, but you don't bother to notice. You're so occupied by your station that you don't _see_ me anymore." She shook her head, defeated, and looked back down to her hands.

"Something is wrong with me, Roland. Something I don't understand. I don't want to be touched. I can barely get out of bed...I...I feel like I'm standing at the bottom of a well and looking up at the circle of light where people are happy, and I'm just alone and abandoned and I can't get out and no one cares. I'm exhausted and on edge and just - just _angry_. Angry at the expectations you have of me. Angry at how much of a failure I am. I resent you, so much, for being able to leave every day. I resent James and Amber for being born. I wish-" tears started to stream down her cheeks, her face drawn. "I wish we could go back to before. I wish we could give them up. And I feel so guilty for wishing that. Guilty, and shamed, and worthless…"

Ceres looked up at Roland and was met by an unyielding expression of barely-contained rage. She let out a rueful laugh on an exhale of breath. She wiped her eyes and spoke with renewed vigor, voice bitter.

"Nevermind. It doesn't matter. You don't care anymore, not really. You're just a provider of funds, not father to my children, and certainly not my husband. Where I go and where the children go isn't your business." She moved to open the bottom drawer. Roland practically flew across the room and held the drawer closed with a booted foot. Her face turned up to his immediately.

"You're not taking my children," he roared at her. "Go ahead and run, like a coward, but don't you dare steal my children from me. They deserve the sort of nurturing that you aren't capable of, Ceres. You've said it yourself. You're a terrible mother. James and Amber deserve better than you."

Ceres stared up at him, holding his gaze. There was hate, there, in her eyes. Hate and betrayal and anger and unadulterated pain. But Roland could see nothing but red. He held to his words, to his actions. He could barely hold back his hands from shaking the husk of the woman he had married. He wanted to bring back the woman he knew that melancholy and motherhood had stolen away from him.

She turned away, bag in hand. Without another word, Ceres left, leaving the door open behind her. Roland stomped across the room and slammed the door with a yell, striking his palm against the frame of the door in frustration.

.

* * *

.

Ceres wasn't home when Roland returned from work that evening at two bells after midnight. She wasn't home when the sun rose the next morning. And she wasn't home when there was a knock at the door an hour after dawn.

Roland found himself unable to speak as the patrolman handed over the dirtied carpet bag, now stained with a dried spattering of deep red. Highwaymen, the patrolman said. The King's Road isn't well monitored outside of the village. Funds for patrol only stretch so far. It looked like it was quick, he said. Looked like she didn't suffer much.

More might have been said. Roland found that he couldn't hear anything except for his own heartbeat, pounding like a blacksmith's hammer in his ears.

The patrolman said something else, clapped Roland's shoulder with something akin to routine sympathy, and left. Roland stared out the open door, his breath coming in shorter and shorter gasps. He found himself leaving his house. He trod along his well-worn path to the palace gardens and navigated the labyrinth inside by feel more than sight until he came to a familiar iron gate. He opened it, closed it behind him, fell to his knees, and started to weep.

.

* * *

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 **A/N: Some of this really hurt my heart to write. I hope I've done it justice. It's an important interlude to the story. There are two more parts to Roland's past that you need to know about. One of them is written, the other is not. I was going to present them both in my next posting, but I think I want to hold on to them for now so I can hold them for the best dramatic placement :) So, with that in mind. Next up: Cedric and Sofia visit Mystic Meadows.**

 **Thank you, as ever, for your patience as I take my time with this story. I want to get it right. And thank you for your views, follows, favorites, and reviews. It means so much to me that you've taken the time to read my work, and it's even more inspiring to my writing when you take the time to share your thoughts with me about it.**

 ****Supportive edit: I am so fortunate in that my husband is truly my best friend. We have an incredible relationship. Yes, we fight, but those fights pale in comparison to what I wrote above. I was also very fortunate in that I suffered very little PPD. Sure, there are days that are harder, darker than others, but for the most part, I had a very sunny postpartum experience. If you are hurting, if what Ceres spoke about when she finally described her feelings, rings actively true for you, please seek help. Whether that's a physician or just a friendly shoulder, those feelings are normal and natural and you don't have to go through them alone.**


	11. Chapter 11

Give Me Your Riches: Chapter Eleven

"Ceddy!" Winifred squealed as she opened her front door. "What a delicious, _delicious_ surprise! Come here, darling, come here." Short arms wrapped around Cedric's middle and lovingly tried to suffocate him.

Before his arrival in Mystic Meadows, Cedric had spent the morning berating himself for his loss of control the night before. His emotions had gotten the better of his magic. And, the greater crime in his opinion, his emotions had gotten the better of his common sense. The evening had definitely been a mistake.

A rather delightful mistake...

A moment where Cedric had been able to forget everything but the woman in his arms, and the way her hair loosely fell to tickle his hand as he held the small of her back. The way her laughter rang out like cheerful little bells to echo through the tower. The way her breath caught when he spoke her name.

Merlin's mushrooms. He had been such an idiot to say her name like that. He was a cretin, and yet he couldn't bring himself to completely regret it. Especially not when he saw her again in the morning. Sofia had entered his tower door at precisely the right time to tend to the potion after the sun had risen. The squeak of the door had stirred him from a restless slumber. His rest was interrupted every three hours for the demanding requirements of the potion in conjunction with his conscious berating him over his actions. When he blearily stumbled down the stairs, Sofia held herself as the picture of Apprentice professionalism with the exception of a glint of something _more_ barely concealed behind her eyes. Cedric couldn't bring himself to discourage her. It was the happiest he had seen her in over a week. He found that, just like the dance, he was unable to deny Sofia her happiness.

"You're looking a little...tired, darling," Winifred's voice, perfumed with sweet suggestion, brought Cedric back into the present. He fought back a strong desire to roll his eyes.

"Just the life of a potioneer, Mummy. And before you ask, _no_ I won't allow you to cut my hair." He kissed her cheek and ignored her petulant frown. He stepped aside to allow her to embrace Sofia. The women clung to each other for a time before Winifred stepped back, grasping Sofia by the shoulders.

"Let me look at you, darling. Let me look at you!" Winifred appraised Sofia before throwing her arms in the air. "Just as I thought. Even more beautiful than the last time I saw you. Don't you think so, Ceddy?"

"As you say, Mummy," Cedric replied with a very intentionally distracted tone.

"Oh, Mrs. Winifred, I don't think - "

"I've told you time and time again to call me "Mum," darling. You're practically part of the family, what with you being such a good _friend_ to Ceddy. And how you go about escorting Calista throughout the Kingdoms whenever she asks."

Sofia and Cedric spoke over each other.

"You're too kind, Mrs. Winifred, really, but I don't think I should -"

"Mummy, I hardly think it's appropriate -"

Winifred dismissed them with a wave of her hand. "Oh hush, both of you, and get inside."

The house looked the same as always, though the mantle was starting to get overcrowded with various accolades Calista had earned at school. The front door closed and Winifred bustled around Cedric and Sofia to the dining room. The old sorceress pointed her wand at a few stacks of plates and a tea service hopped to life on the dining room table. Steam started to float out of the teapot as the tea leaves inside began to steep in the magically hot water. All the while, a cucumber sliced itself and arranged itself onto white bread with a generous smear of creamed cheese. Cookies danced out of nearby tins to lay neatly on a tiered tray in the center of the table. Winifred turned and gave her two guests an amused look.

"Life's too short not to have a bit of fun, don't you think? Oh! Goody, there you are, love. Come sit! Look who's here for tea!"

Goodwin came into the room with a sure footed step. He held his arms out towards the Princess.

"Princess Sofia, my dear! Such a pleasure to see you again." Sofia glided across the room into the man's embrace. He hugged her around the shoulders with one arm; a physical sign of affection that very nearly violated Goodwin's strong sense of Royal propriety. But, for Sofia, he made an exception. He released Sofia and his expression slid into something that more resembled a brick wall. "Cedric," he said stiffly as he extended his hand. Cedric moved forward to shake it once. The two dropped hands as quickly as they could.

Cedric stifled a sigh as they all moved to sit around the table. Everyone had a designated spot: Goodwin at the head with Winifred across from him. Sofia and Cedric sat on the same side of the table, Sofia as a buffer between Cedric and his father. The other side of the table was reserved for Cordelia and Calista, even when they weren't in attendance.

"Mummy, we can't stay long. You shouldn't have gone to all the trouble." Cedric said even as he was reaching for a cookie covered in raspberry jam. "There's a potion we have to attend to," he took a bite of the cookie. "Vurry shenshetive thime thable."

"Pish posh, Ceddy. You can always just pop back to your little potion and then right back here. You come so rarely that I simply won't be denied my time with you. And while you're gone I can have a little conversation with Sofia. Woman to woman."

If words could pinch cheeks, Cedric's and Sofia's would both be bright red. Cedric tried to protest but his mother immediately began asking after the health of Sofia's family. Proprietary insisted that Sofia answer.

The conversation flowed naturally enough. Cedric spoke of the work he was currently performing in the kingdom, to his father's mild satisfaction. Cedric's mother went on for an uncomfortably long time about the different women in her magic knitting circle and their various and sundry matronly health concerns. Sofia, blessedly, interrupted right before things got too graphic to ask Goodwin to share the story of the seventh time he saved the life of Roland the First. Goodwin required no further prodding to indulge her request.

"It had been a terribly hot and dry summer. And we had a bit of a rare treat delivered to us as a kindness from one of the kingdoms in the north. It was...Merlin's beard, which one was it?"

"Freezenburg," answered the entire table in wildly varying degrees of enthusiasm.

"Ah! Yes, quite right. Freezenburg. So it was. Well, King Roland, the first you understand, was such a generous man. He invited a few of the up and ups in the castle to join him for some chilled wine and a meeting of minds. Such a thoughtful man. I could create ice for him in moments, but he thought it best that we saw to the enjoyment of a gift that was so hard to come by...for the common folk, you know. So, several of us were sitting in his study while one of the servants used a chisel to break off chunks of the ice. Some was placed beside the pitcher to chill the wine and then bits were added to the glasses of those who requested it. I didn't, of course. The ice dilutes the wine, you know, and just ruins the flavor. But, to each his own. I was served second, second most powerful in the room, you know, and waited a few moments for the rest to be served, but then," he chuckled. Cedric mouthed the next few words along with his father. "I just couldn't help myself. I took a sip. But the man beside me started to foam at the mouth." He paused for dramatic effect, waiting for the question which Sofia supplied as though it was the first time she heard the story.

"What happened next?"

"Well, I stood immediately, shocked, as the man beside me started to convulse. He died almost instantly. A second man followed suit moments later. The King, wise man that he was, put his goblet aside immediately. I magically tested the wine at his Majesty's behest but, as I expected, the wine was untainted and not bewitched to cause deadly afflictions - save for wine's particular kind of intended affliction, of course." He gave another chuckle. "The men were taken away, poor creatures. But even with his Majesty's and my own considerable mind working together, we could not solve the mystery of their deaths. Nearly an hour later, we two were back in the study alone and his Majesty reached for his goblet, and that's when it hit me - the ice!"

"You mean the ice was poisoned?" Sofia led Goodwin into the next line of the story. Her eyes caught Cedric's and he saw the slightest trace of amusement hidden deep in her expression. He felt the corner of his lip tug slightly upwards, but, thinking better of it, he immediately schooled his face back to one of dower stoicism.

"Yes, indeed, my dear! Poisoned!"

"What did you do?!" Sofia gasped. Goodwin took Sofia's tone as sincere but Cedric could hear the notes of playful placation in her voice. He found it even harder not to smile.

"I stood up," and Goodwin stood, "and knocked the goblet from his hand!" And he did, except, in this demonstration, it was a teacup that was knocked from Cedric's hand. The cup clattered to the ground and Cedric drew in a deep breath of self control. Winifred, used to this particular choreography in the retelling of this story, idly waved her wand over Cedric and his shirt dried. The liquid returned to its cup, now righted, sat in front of Cedric again.

"King Roland looked at me like I was insane. 'Ice, Goodwin? But there is none in my glass!' he said. 'Ah!' I replied, 'but there was an hour ago and it has since melted away!' 'My God!' the King replied, 'you're right! We shall send a letter of war to..to…'"

"Freezenburg," the table harmonized.

"'To Freezeburg post haste!' But I held my hands up in protest. 'My King, you know I support you, but perhaps this calls for further inquiry before we launch a thousand ships. Anyone can sign a card, you see.' The King looked thoughtful for a moment and then he nodded his head in agreement. A few days investigative work found the true culprit - a disgruntled nobleman who was dealt with post haste. And that, my dear Sofia, is how I saved your grandfather's life for the seventh time. And, in doing so, prevented thousands of deaths from a war of misunderstanding."

The audience of three applauded, Sofia's hands proving to be the most enthusiastic.

"You do such a wonderful job telling that story, Mr. Goodwin," the Princess said. Cedric watched her and admired her deft balance between flattery and sincerity. Her approach was only a slight refinement of the skills a child develops to cajole requests out of their parents. But it was quite clear to Cedric that, with little additional training, Sofia's skills of manipulation would be difficult to compete against. It would be incredibly advantageous for her to develop her skills further. And it would be incredibly useful for him to have that skill at his disposal.

Cedric mentally shook himself. He swatted back that nagging lust for power situated somewhere deep in his belly that had reached a tendril up to his mind. Sofia was a person, not an object to use to his advantage. _Any_ advantage.

"I was actually hoping you could tell me a few more stories." Sofia's voice broke Cedric from his momentary revelry. Her expression was a carefully crafted but sincere thing and Cedric briefly wondered how many times she had used the same technique on him. Though, surely, he'd be a more difficult mark than his father.

Goodwin gave a hearty laugh. "You indulge an old man too much, Princess."

"Oh don't be silly, Mr. Goodwin. You'd be doing me a service."

The man entwined his hands over his ample stomach. "You know I'd do anything to serve the noble house of Winslow, Princess. Ask away."

"I was hoping you could tell me a bit more about my grandfather, King Roland the First."

"I should think the two of you are well-acquainted from all my previous tales, dear girl!"

Sofia released a tinkling laugh and gave the old sorcerer an easy smile. "I apologize, I should have made my meaning clearer. I meant to ask if you knew anything about him when he was a younger man, or even when he was a boy?"

Goodwin leaned back in his chair and furrowed his brow in thought. Cedric looked to Sofia with an eyebrow raised questioningly. This wasn't a line of inquiry she had mentioned last night. She smiled back at him innocently but then her eyes widened and she quickly turned back to Goodwin. She had caught the eye of Winifred. Cedric turned his head to look at her and she gave him a knowing smirk. He was decidedly not in favor of the meddling gleam in his mother's eye.

"I have to say, Princess," Goodwin said, interrupting the brief silence, "that I can't seem to remember much about the good King's youth. Our family has served Enchancia since its inception, you know. But, like Cedric, I spent much of my youth at Hexley Hall, as I imagine your grandfather spent much of his time at Royal Preparatory. I was always happy to serve the Kingdom, of course. But he and I didn't become more than professional acquaintances until I had the great honor to save his life..." His face broke into a deep grin. "...the first time."

Sofia nodded, still smiling. "You must know of every major magical object in Enchancia, having served the Kingdom so well and for so long."

Cedric briefly wondered if Sofia truly held the potential to be a master manipulator or if his father was simply an exceptionally easy target. He had to know Sofia was after something.

Goodwin somehow managed to strut in place and, in doing so, put every peacock that had ever attempted to strut to shame.

"Of course I do! Though I would hope Cedric would know about these things as well. It is part of his task as Royal Sorcerer to know them all. It would be a shame that my son should disappoint you and cause you to travel out all this way to learn from me instead. Not that I mind, my dear, not that I mind."

Before Cedric had the chance to take offense, Sofia's hand grazed his knee under the table and lightly rested there. He stalled at her touch and missed the chance to voice his dissent as Sofia began to defend him.

"I did my own research, Mr. Goodwin, and could only find the barest of information on this peculiar item. I did ask Master Cedric and he wisely suggested I come to you with my inquiry, as the site in question was established during your tenure as Royal Sorcerer."

That was a partial lie. Cedric almost opened his mouth to protest. It was, however, a partial lie that painted him in a relatively positive light. And he hadn't missed Sofia calling him 'master' while she called his father 'mister.' And so he promptly shut his mouth again, though Goodwin's self-satisfied smile gave Cedric serious second thoughts.

"Go on, then, Princess. I'll be glad to tell you what I know."

Sofia pulled her hand from Cedric's knee to reach into a pocket of her gown. She drew out her little notebook. She then opened it to a page where she had made a rendering of the dilapidated well she had described to Cedric last night.

"I know it to be a Wishing Well in the middle of the hedgerows, but it looks like it was abandoned and forgotten a long time ago, and I don't know why." Goodwin took the book in his hands to examine the drawing more carefully. "The only concrete information I can find on it is the date it appeared - I wrote it down just there - but nothing else. No record of the building materials or the cost of its construction. I just found it so strange that something so powerful would appear with so little record."

Goodwin was quiet for a long time. He was quiet for long enough that Cedric began to have vivid flashbacks to sitting within the palpable silence of his father's displeasure on any of the myriad of occasions that Cedric had disappointed him. When Goodwin finally removed the book from his inspection and sat it on the table, he gave a falsely lighthearted shrug accompanied by a self-deprecating laugh.

"It appears my mind isn't what it used to be, Princess. This particular Wishing Well is familiar to me in that I recall it from my list of magical objects within Enchancia. But like the name of that all-winter kingdom, what's-it-called - " he snapped his fingers in the air twice, trying to remember.

"Freezenburg?" Sofia supplied.

"Just like Freezenburg, your Highness, the details escape this old man."

Sofia took the dead end in good spirits, Cedric thought. Barely a flash of dismay crossed her features before she tucked it away behind a gracious smile. It was his father's reaction that Cedric found less convincing. Those who used magic, knowingly or unknowingly, generally enjoyed a much longer lifespan than the average man; it wasn't uncommon for a sorcerer or a witch to reach their three hundredth birthday. Merlin himself was reputedly nearly four hundred, though that information wasn't exactly public knowledge. Cedric's father was barely ninety and in perfect health. He had adopted a practice in recent years, when amongst mixed magical company, to forget certain facts here and there to portray the image of a tired old man, mostly so he could enjoy his retirement in peace with his wife.

His father was lying. And he was lying to Sofia, whom he seemed to love more than his own son. Frankly, Cedric found it unacceptable.

"Are you certain, father?" Cedric probed. Goodwin straightened in his chair.

"Of course I'm certain, Cedric." He sounded affronted. Good.

"I just know the Princess is disappointed and she's too polite to say so. I assured her last night that you would surely have the information she sought. You are such a fountain of knowledge for the magical objects of Enchancia, even in your retirement. While my attentions have been drawn to more immediate problems, you retain all the heroism of your glory days serving the Kingdom."

Sofia tried to catch Cedric's eye, her face gradually reddening with frustration as he portrayed her as a damsel in distress. Cedric blatantly ignored her, staring daggers into his father.

"She has found nothing but cold trails and dead ends in her search for information about this particular object. I truly thought you would know, father. But I suppose _I_ shall have to find a way to compensate for your short-comings. It is such a shame to see you losing your touch."

Goodwin's mustache was quivering in flustered rage. His mouth formed wordlessly for a few moments before he finally sputtered out: "There _is_ no information, you belligerent boy! I looked into this query myself half a century ago! The Well simply _appeared_ one day and I was unable to account for it. It's an embarrassment to my time spent serving Enchancia and you are quite crass for bringing it up!"

Goodwin erupted from his chair and was about to shout again when Sofia stood and took his hand in both of hers.

"I don't think it's embarrassing at all, Mr. Goodwin."

Goodwin blundered any attempt at a response as Sofia held tightly to his hand, preventing him from storming away.

"It's clearly a very powerful magical object. Even the simple theory of magical flight has its mysteries. If something as potent as a Wishing Well decided to appear in Enchancia, no one could expect you to explain why, not when we can't even explain why certain incantations for fire can be used underwater while other incantations lack the strength to light a simple candle. You brought no shame to Enchancia by not knowing every detail about the Well. I thank you from the bottom of my heart for sharing what you knew with me."

Sofia had gotten closer to the patriarch as she spoke and now stood beside him, one hand still held to his and the other resting lightly on his back. Her speech had taken the wind out of Goodwin's angry sails. Cedric watched, aghast. He had only ever seen his mother quelle his father's temper and usually over a much longer time period than the seconds it had taken for Sofia. He looked to his mother to find her watching with a pensive air.

"Would you please come back and sit with us?" Sofia's hand lightly guided Goodwin back to his chair. "I would hate for our visit to be cut short." Goodwin plopped back down into his chair which creaked in protest. Sofia squeezed his hand one last time and then took her own seat with a dangerously victorious expression.

"Have you considered asking it?" Winifred, having sat silently for an unusually long time, asked.

"I beg your pardon, Mrs. - um - Mum?"

"Have you considered asking the Well about its origins?"

Sofia sat back in her chair and blinked several times. "...no. No, but that's a brilliant idea!"

Winifred looked from Sofia to Cedric with far too much pleasure. "Yes, I do have them from time to time. Don't you need to go and tend to that potion of yours, Ceddy?"

As if on Winifred's cue, Cedric's pocket watch chimed from within his pocket. He gave his mother the smallest glare. She had an uncanny sense of time. She waved him out of his chair with a shooing gesture and Cedric found himself beside the door in moments. He turned back to find his mother standing behind Sofia. She put her hands lightly on the Princess's shoulders.

"Well, hurry off, then. You said it was so time sensitive. Sofia and I will just nip out to the garden to and prune the herbs while you're gone." She gave Sofia's shoulders a little squeeze. "As long as you don't mind, dear. The sage in particular responds better to being pruned by hand instead of by wand and my knees just aren't what they used to be."

"Oh, Mummy, I don't -"

"I don't mind at all!" Sofia got to her feet and headed out to the garden through the kitchen at the back of the house. Goodwin sat, sipping his now-cold tea, thoughtfully watching Sofia walk away. Winifred stared at Cedric expectantly.

"Time is wasting, Ceddy dear."

"Mummy," Cedric's voice was warning.

"Oh Ceddy, it's not like I'm going to bite the girl. We're just going to talk. Now go tend to your potion before you lose all the work you've put into it already."

Cedric shifted his weight from foot to foot. His mother's every word was laced with alternate meanings and he was not keen on leaving her alone to prod who-knows-what information from Sofia. Princess, damn it all, _Princess_ Sofia. His pocket watch chimed again, more insistently this time. Cedric gave his mother one last warning scowl, to which she waved her hand in that shooing motion again. Defeated, he stepped outside of the door and teleported back to his tower.

.

* * *

 **.**

 **A/N: I am so sorry this wasn't ready in October. As I posted in other stories, my beta had a death in the family and so their time was shorter than usual. I sincerely hope to have TWO chapters up in November to keep things on schedule.**

 **In an unexpected first, I accomplished precisely what I planned to accomplish in this chapter and nothing more (and nothing less). Huzzah for finally planning effectively!**

 **I have 10 more chapters well-mapped, including the conclusion to the story. There may be an additional chapter or two if characters get too chatty. I'm gonna go ahead and say that we're looking at about 22 chapters total. So we're halfway there! Woo!**

 **In case you couldn't understand it, when Cedric's mouth is full of cookies, he says "Very sensitive time table."**

 **And with that, reviews, please! How did you enjoy affectionately-meddling Winifred? I love her. She'll be back big-time next chapter. And what about constantly-disappointed-in-Cedric-but-enamored-with-Sofia Goodwin? Less loveable, but very entertaining. My inspiration is Professor Slughorn from Harry Potter. :) Have you ever had to leave your crush alone with your parents, for some reason? TERRIFYING. Usually nothing happens. Usually ;)**


	12. Chapter 12

Give Me Your Riches: Chapter Twelve

Roland didn't know how he had found the secluded courtyard again. Every time he had sought out to find it, it had eluded him. But on this morning, stumbling through the castle gardens in blind grief, he had found the familiar ornate gate and swung it open. He heard it clang closed behind him before falling forward to rest his head on the stone bench and lose himself to his sorrow.

Dead. Ceres was dead.

The sun had risen high enough to warm his back when Roland finally ran out of tears. He pressed the heel of his palms against his eyes, trying to find relief from the pounding that had taken up residence in his head. He released a shuddering, broken breath and tried to swallow back the emotions that threatened to wholly consume him.

Roland needed this not to be his fault. The guilt would suffocate him if he was the person to blame for this tragedy. He needed someone to blame. But he would probably never know who had killed Ceres. It wouldn't be specifically investigated. She was too unimportant to the guard on the road who hadn't been able to protect her. The guard whose orders ultimately came from the King.

"That _bastard_ …" Roland said under his breath as he balled up his fists.

" **Roland. Why are you crying?"**

The inhuman voice caused Roland to turn towards the gate and raise his fists defensively. It took him a moment to remember where he was and what else was here.

The Wishing Well. It remembered him. Weeks and weeks ago when Roland had first found this place, he also found an odd conversation partner. The conversation had been innocuous. The Well asked who Roland was and what he did. It asked what he had been doing out so late. Roland had been surprised to find himself easily sharing his frustrations with the Well. It had been such a relief to find a sympathetic ear, so to speak. And now, in his hour of greatest pain, it was here again.

Roland stood on shaky legs and walked the few steps over to the well. He stared down at its vacant face within the sun crest. The lack of expression was strangely comforting as Roland contended with more emotions than he could effectively manage.

"My wife is dead." His voice was hoarse, but he had managed to speak the truth without shaking. It gave him an odd sense of pride amongst his agony.

" **All people die."**

Roland didn't bother to hold back his rage as he slammed his fist hard down on the lip of the Well. Pain shot up his arm. It was the first tangible thing he had felt beyond his grief. He seethed through his teeth, welcoming the sensation. Anger offered relief, a sense of purpose in a world that had lost its heading.

"Of course all people die you damned pile of rocks! That doesn't mean you go saying it to a man who just lost his wife!

" **I meant no offense, Roland."**

Roland's anger simmered back down, replaced by the ache of loneliness. "Of course you didn't mean offense. You can't _mean_ anything. You're a magical, talking Well. You don't really...have… Magic…." Roland felt his breath stop as realization started to wash over him. He leaned over the lip of the well to stare down at its face. "Can you bring people back from the dead?"

" **I can grant any wish, Roland."**

"Any wish? Any wish at all? So if I were to wish for my wife back to life -"

" **Any wish."** The well repeated in its familiar, monotone voice.

"Then I wish for...I wish for-"

Roland raked his hand through his hair, pulling at his scalp before releasing a grunt of frustration. He stepped back and began to pace in front of the well, his eyes wild.

"But it's not enough! Bringing Ceres back isn't enough. I can't change our life and if I bring her back, she'll still be unhappy. And if she's unhappy, if we're still poor, if that tyrant son of a bitch still looks down his nose at us, at all of us...she'll leave. She'll leave again...and die again."

" **One wish can accomplish many things, Roland."**

Roland stepped back up to the Well, staring down into its vacant, unmoving eyes.

"I wish for more than just the life of Ceres. I want her to be safe and provided for. I want to be appreciated for the work I do for my family. I want Ceres to never feel the sorrow and heartache of motherhood. I want her to never know need or hunger when she's with me. I want the Kingdom to be ruled justly and fairly so _no one_ knows need or hunger like they do now. And I want no one in the kingdom to fear King Cedric, or his power, or his magic."

" **Give me your riches, and I'll grant you your wishes."**

Roland recoiled slightly. "I-I don't have anything."

" **Riches of coin aren't the only things of value, Roland. Your ring."**

"It's all I have left of her." His right hand immediately took his left ring finger protectively into its grip. It was a simple thing he had commissioned from the smithy in town; a circle of pewter that matched the one Ceres wore. ...the one Ceres used to wear.

" **It won't be after you make your wish, Roland."**

Roland spun the ring around on his finger. It was the last thing he had left their marriage, now that Ceres was gone. This could all be a dream, or a trick. He could drop his ring into the well and never see it again, cursed to stare at his bare finger and be constantly reminded of his stupidity. But if it worked, if the Well could really bring her back, wasn't it worth the risk?

Roland tugged the ring off its finger, ignoring the resistance he felt over his knuckle, and brought it to his lips. He kissed it, trying to transfer into the ring all of his hopes that this was real and he would see Ceres alive and well in just moments. He held the ring over the well's open mouth and dropped it in.

Roland collapsed to the ground, his vision awash with terrifying emptiness. The last thing he heard was the voice of the Well, suddenly more eerie than it had ever been before.

" **Your wish has been granted."**

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* * *

.

Winifred closed the kitchen door behind her. She stepped out into the garden she had been cultivating since she and Goodwin had retired to Mystic Meadows. It was a twenty by twenty paces patch of earth that was generally maintained by the spells Calista had put into place for a school project. There was a satisfying sense of order to the garden; the herbs and vegetables used in the kitchen were separate from the plants that could be poisonous with misuse and flowers that had uses beyond beauty were placed in between. Summer was at its close. September was nearly at an end and many of the plants were on their last breaths of life before they could be put to bed. But the colors were still vibrant, their scents dancing invitingly in the air.

Sofia had already entrenched herself within the greenery, kneeling beside the sage and tucked behind the sprawling rosemary. She popped her head up at the sound of the door and smiled at Winifred. The matron walked down a narrow path of flagstones in the center of the garden. She took a few steps further down the path from where Sofia sat and reached up to pick the last dark purple elderberries from a tall bush.

The work was mindless, and for that Sofia was grateful. She had spent considerable energy this morning quieting the girlish, love-sick voice in her head that was still reeling from the dance mere hours earlier. It was a concrete moment that little voice could point to and say "Ah ha! You see? I haven't been making it up. He _does_ see you romantically!"

But Cedric wasn't the sort of man who would suddenly start making moon eyes at her the next morning. And so, Sofia had left her glee behind her own bedroom door. She had focused her mind on the Well and the answers she hoped to find. She shushed that girlish twitter every time it tried to assert itself. Cedric was a mature and focused man. Sofia needed to show him that she could still be professional and competent even when his slightest touch sent lightning racing across her skin.

"What is that song you're humming, Sofia dear?"

Sofia blinked in surprise, "I was humming?"

"Yes, dear. It must be a lovely song - you're practically glowing."

"I'm sorry, I-I didn't realize-"

"Oh it's fine, nothing to apologize for. Pass the shears, would you?"

Sofia pulled her hands from the earth and picked up her wand. She gave it a little wave towards the kitchen and the shears came flying out through the open window, handle first, to Sofia. She handed them to Winifred who had continued on in a pleasant babble.

"You know, Cedric was always so good at gardening. I think that's why he started into potion making with such finesse - Sofia, if you could, love, only pluck the sage leaves bigger than your thumb. It lets the light get down to the ones below. We'll have to put the tubers to bed today but the sage will flourish a bit longer."

Sofia adjusted her approach to the herb accordingly as Winifred continued on.

"Yes, my Ceddy was always willing to help me out here. And in the Sorcerer's Garden at the castle, of course. He'd play in the dirt and find little treasures - shiny rocks, shells, that sort of thing. I even hid a few for him, little cherub. He'd always polish them up and give them to me as gifts. He's very kind. A very loving man, don't you think? Oh - but of course, I don't have to tell you. You've grown up around him. Would you move on to the tubers, love? You've pinched quite enough out of the sage, I think - yes, that's a good girl. Cover them up to three quarters, they can take it."

Winifred paused. Sofia moved over to the tubers and looked up at the other woman. Winifred had enchanted the shears and was directing them with her wand as they cut back a bush.

"Ceddy was so good at planting. He must have gotten it from me. I'm a bit of a horticulturalist myself, back before my hands started to bother me. I brewed quite a bit, though with not nearly the skill Ceddy possesses. Remind me, dear, was it parsley or coriander we planted in this row by the elderberry?"

"It's lovage, actually. It was blooming the last time we were here." Sofia barely looked up from her work, enjoying the feel of soil against her hands. As a princess, she was so rarely afforded the opportunity to literally get her hands dirty that a moment like this was one she could happily lose herself in.

The silence between them didn't last long before Winifred went on with a new avalanche of words.

"After we'd planted the spring herbs and vegetables, Ceddy and I would do a good, old-fashioned planting stomp. You know, when you stomp all the plots to pack the earth nice and tight." She let out a wistful little laugh at the memory. "He'd laugh and laugh as we'd dance in the garden under the moonlight - a good stomp has to be under the full moon for the spell of it to really take effect. But you know that, of course. I taught Ceddy all the steps. Tell me, does he still remember how to dance?"

"Oh yes, he's an incredible dancer," Sofia said dreamily. And then her hands froze as she realized what she had just said. She could feel the heat of her blush instantly spreading across her cheeks. Sofia ventured a slow, horrified gaze up through her eyelashes. Winifred had stopped trimming back the bush. She looked down at Sofia with a knowing, closed-lipped smile that was equal parts victory and smug satisfaction.

"I think you've covered the tubers well enough, love," Winifred said, the warmth in her voice overwhelmingly welcome. "Why don't you come help me with the elderberries? They seem to have a mind of their own."

They worked quietly for a few minutes. Sofia was grateful for the opportunity to let her blush fade away while hers and Winifred's attention was directed at the savage elderberry bush.

"I was hoping you might do me a little favor, Sofia."

"Of course." Sofia answered almost automatically.

"Could you tell me what it is Ceddy does in his free time?"

"My lessons occupy much of his free time, I'm afraid. When he isn't teaching me, I believe he's researching or pursuing his next quest and then tending to the needs of the Kingdom and Castle."

"No hobbies?"

"He held an interest for inventions and new technologies for a while, but I believe that's fallen by the wayside."

Winnifred clicked her tongue. "It's worse than I thought then…"

"What do you mean?" Sofia asked tentatively.

"It's absolutely no fault of yours, dear, but it seems Ceddy has removed all opportunities for pleasurable pursuits. He's always been dedicated, but I worry about him. All work and no play, as the saying goes."

Sofia opened her mouth to respond but, as if on cue, Cedric returned the moment after Winifred stopped speaking. He had been gone a scant ten minutes and was only barely out of breath as he materialized just outside the perimeter of the garden. Winifred put down her weeding and suggested that they all take an early afternoon stroll around the lake. Cedric mentioned an obscure ingredient that he had forgotten to pick up from his mother as a feeble attempt at distraction, but it didn't work. His mother waved him off as she bustled inside to collect Goodwin. She came creeping back outside moments later, telling them that he had fallen asleep and for the two of them to go ahead without her. Winifred, not a woman to be denied, got her way. With an stale piece of bread shoved into Sofia's hands for the ducks, Cedric and Sofia were ushered to the lakeside path and left to walk.

Sofia was nervous. There was no reason to be. Nothing between her and Cedric had changed since the conversation she shared with his mother. But somehow, having someone beyond Lucinda knowing an inkling of her feelings for her Master, her friend, made the feelings more real than they had been less than an hour before. It was even more significant that the other person who knew happened to be Cedric's mother. And now, Winifred's parting worry was being tossed around in Sofia's mind like a birdie on a badminton court; should she address it with Cedric or leave it unsaid?

The sun was playing beautifully across the lake. Sensing either bread or a weakness for animals, a family of ducks swam towards Sofia once she and Cedric rounded the bend that hid the body of water. Sofia couldn't help but smile as they approached. They quacked out an enthusiastic, albeit distracted, "hello" as she ripped the bread into pieces and tossed it towards them.

"Did you learn what you needed to from my father?" Cedric asked when Sofia handed him half of the heel of bread. He idly ripped it into pieces and threw it out to the ducks with much less adoration than Sofia.

"Yes and no. He didn't know anything I hadn't already found out, but there were still some clues. The Well just appearing one day with no explanation - that sort of solved one mystery of its origins, though it raised even more questions."

"Is there some greater power behind it? How much power does the well actually hold to appear in such a way? Why did it appear here? Etcetera, etcetera."

"Yes, exactly." Sofia was glad for the ducks to serve as an excuse for her smile while enjoying this pleasant repartee with Cedric. The way he could follow her thoughts without the need to pause and think, and expand on her ideas for the better, was something she had never quite found with anyone else. It wasn't a matter of intelligence. It was more a matter of being in effortless sync with another person.

"Any other clues?"

Sofia furrowed her brow. "I think it's odd that your father doesn't remember my grandfather before coming on as Royal Sorcerer. They must have run in similar circles, so that doesn't make sense. That's sort of a clue, too. But could he really just be...losing his faculties?" She tried to be delicate.

Cedric scoffed as he aggressively ripped the heel of bread into duck-bite-sized pieces. "No, he isn't. He's just embarrassed that he can't remember."

"How can you be certain?"

"My father has barely broached adulthood as a sorcerer. Those who use magic, who regularly take advantage of the pool of power within themselves, end up having a much longer lives. Not only that, but those lives are stuffed full of vitality of the spirit, mind, and body. Tell me, Princess, when was the last time you had a cold?"

Sofia turned her head to the side in thought, "I don't know, really. I think it was back when my mother and I were still in the village."

"Exactly. You came to the castle and started your magic training in school and expanded your studies with me soon after. You have an unusually strong talent for magic, for not coming from a magical family. With all your training and natural ability, as long as you continue on with your studies in even an ancillary effort, there's no reason why you shouldn't live to be upwards of two hundred years old."

"I suppose that's part of why you look so young?"

Cedric scoffed again, though it was a half-hearted sound this time. "I'm not young compared to you."

"On the magical or mundane scale? Oh come on, how old are you, anyway?" She teased him, the ducks now completely forgotten. "Fifty?"

"Fifty?! You think I'm fifty years old!?"

Sofia shrugged playfully at his incredulity. "How should I know? You're already bursting with magical vigor. You could even be a hundred years old already and I would have no idea."

"I'm barely thirteen years your senior, Sofia," he said through gritted teeth, though Sofia could swear she could see the echo of a smile.

"Ah," Sofia nodded knowingly. "So, an infant in sorcerer years. But thirteen - that's a powerful, magical number, isn't it?" Her lips curled up into a bold little smirk before she started down the path again, the ducks swimming away now that the bread had been fully distributed.

It was nearly an entire minute later that Sofia heard Cedric move behind her. She could only speculate as to what he was thinking when he appeared beside her and matched her pace, his face a neutral mask. His lack of follow up to her teasing was disheartening. She barely fought back a disappointed sigh before she rolled back her shoulders and decided to tend to the seed Winifred had planted in of her mind.

"Your mother made an interesting comment to me while you were gone." Sofia kept her eyes ahead, focusing on the path.

"Of course she did," Cedric said through a sigh.

"She's worried about you."

"What is it this time? I spend too much time working, I'm unmarried, I don't visit enough?"

"She's worried, I think at the core of it, about the way you covet power."

Sofia felt Cedric grab her shoulder and stop their ambling walk. She looked up at him curiously and was met with concern and intensity.

"Explain."

Sofia squinted her eyes against the sunlight reflecting against the smooth lake's surface, taking a moment to consider her words before she answered.

"I think that she means that you spend so much of your time researching these different artifacts to find, and creatures to defeat for no particular purpose other than the possession of the item or the glory of the creature's defeat. There's some good intention there. You only pursue evil creatures and work to recover objects in the possession of evil people, or you recover things lost to time. And that's good. But you never seem satisfied, starting the next project as soon as you've returned from the last. There's more to life. I think she's worried that you're missing it."

Cedric released Sofia's shoulder and washed his hand over his face, not speaking. She turned her head to try and see his face between his fingers.

"Is she right?"

"It's not as simple as you've made it sound, Sofia. I've tried, but nothing has been able to compete against it. There's some kind of calling, deep within me, that won't be refused. It nearly ran out of control all of those years ago with the Medusa Stones. And so, I've had to pursue other, more worthy tasks in order to keep in control. It's just...it's my life." He shrugged, lifting his hands up helplessly.

The honesty in his response almost startled Sofia. Cedric hadn't withheld or censored his feelings. She had to fight back an urge to jump up and down with glee. She was _his_ confidant, for once.

"Perhaps it isn't something you need to fight," she said in a measured voice that contrasted greatly against her gleeful inner monologue. "Especially if it's as irresistible as you say it is. Maybe you instead need something to...compliment it."

Cedric didn't respond, not verbally. Sofia could feel his eyes on her while she pointedly watched the ducks swim on the lake, trying both to give him privacy for his thoughts and to not inadvertently mar the moment with a nervous blush.

They had had these sort of philosophical discussions in the past, but never on such a personal level. The conversation Sofia had with Winifred had emboldened her, unknowingly preparing her for an exchange with Cedric just like this one. She smiled internally, only her eyes crinkling at the corners. Cedric had even called her 'Sofia' again. The disappointment she felt from Goodwin's lack of information this morning had almost faded in the face of this moment. She was so caught in her revelry that she almost missed it when Cedric said, nearly under his breath,

"Perhaps."

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* * *

.

It was late in the evening when Cedric realized he had forgotten to pick up the enchanted eagle talons from his mother _again_. He had mentioned them to her earlier in the day but the walk around the lake had taken his mind...elsewhere. After returning to the castle, Sofia had gone down to dinner with her family. Cedric didn't need to tend to the potion for another hour. So with an effort of will and a focus on the threshold of his parent's home, he teleported away.

When he knocked, Cedric was relieved to have his mother open the door. She hugged him as though she hadn't seen him for years instead of hours and dragged him inside.

"Twice in one day, Ceddy? You're making your mother think you enjoy an old woman's company," she cooed. "Sit down, love. Let me get you something to drink."

"Don't bother, Mummy, I can't stay…" he trailed off, giving up on attempting to deter his mother. She conjured two tumblers onto the small table in front of the couch. Cedric was pleasantly surprised, however, to see the glasses fill not with tea or milk but a dark amber liquid instead. He took note of the number of glasses, two and not three, and looked to his mother as she sat down beside him. He shifted his gaze to the glasses and back to his mother, quirking up a questioning eyebrow.

"Your father is out. Cards with his friends. It's just you and I this evening."

Cedric felt a tension release between his shoulders that he didn't realize he had been carrying. Winifred patted his hand and then passed him one of the tumblers, taking one for herself, too.

"So. Tell me about Sofia."

Cedric paused briefly, the glass pressed to his lips, before taking an overly casual sip. It burned down his throat, actual steam pushing out of his nostrils before the burn faded to a comfortable warmth.

"That bad, is it?"

When Cedric looked at her, he anticipated a smug smile across his mother's lips. He wasn't certain if it was more or less concerning to see a warm look of worry from her instead. He sighed and leaned back into the cushions of the couch, idly swirling the firewhiskey.

"I think I have in Sofia something most people spend their whole lives searching for."

His mother leaned forward, putting her hand on his knee and listening intently.

"What's that, love?"

"Someone who would give me the world if I asked. And it terrifies me." Cedric curled his arm back to press the glass against his cheek, grateful for how cool it felt on his skin. His mother didn't say anything, patiently waiting for him to elaborate. It gave him an odd sense of relief as he found himself unusually honest for the second time today. Strangely honest. What were the women in his life doing to him?

"You're right, Mummy. What you told Sofia. Your worry. You're right. I covet power. I worry that Sofia...that she'll just turn into another artifact to me. I can't see how it can turn out any differently. The amulet, her royal position, her position as my apprentice…."

"That would be a justified concern if Sofia was some kind of easily exploited wisp of a girl. You're forgetting that she is her own person. She's strong and intelligent and more than a match for you, love." Winifred patted his knee twice before sitting back in her own seat. "She won't let you use her, Ceddy. You'll have to trust her to not let it happen. But regardless of Sofia, you need to reexamine your priorities."

Cedric scoffed and took another sip of the dark amber liquid, the smoke exiting his nose to accompany the sound of the scoff to dramatic effect.

"This isn't the reasoning of a doddering mother, Ceddy. It's the voice of an experienced practitioner. Of someone who understands that elusive longing inside of you."

"What do you mean?" He couldn't hide the suspicion in his voice.

"Why do you think I pushed you to go after the Amulet of Avalor so many years ago? I saw in you something I recognized within myself. Something I tucked away in order to be with your father. It was an intangible thing that I missed. I saw the chance to engage in it again through you, I'm ashamed to say. I was too proud of you and our similarities to help you find another path. You found a better path on your own, but I worry now that you've gone back down the one I led you to."

"It isn't like that." Cedric was surprised to find himself with his guard down, willingly explaining himself. But he persisted. "These are tasks I pursue to fill the 'need' without hurting anyone. Well...anyone who doesn't deserve it. They're things I do to quell that 'need' that you're talking about. So I can stay focused and away from the...darker path."

She shook her head once. "I don't think you need it, love. I don't think you need these tasks you set for yourself to fight the addiction inside of you."

Cedric threw his hand into the air. "Then what do you suggest, Mother?"

His mother looked at him, a knowing glint in her eye.

"No." Cedric's voice was firm.

"Ceddy-"

"Absolutely not. I can't. I've known her since she was a child, tripping about the castle in nothing but lavender."

"I'm not pushing you to go after her. Just don't exclude her as a possibility."

"It isn't a possibility."

"Because of her position? Her age? Those are flimsy excuses and you know it. I'm certain you have a dozen more, but frankly I don't care. She's the first person I've met who could even begin to be a good match for you."

"You're insane, mummy! Sofia is a bubble of positivity, even her magical strengths speak to her having a core of innocence. I have none of that, practically the opposite! How do you even begin to see a match between us?"

Winifred took a long, slow sip of her own drink, letting the smoke push out of her nose and fade from sight before she spoke, her face obnoxiously neutral.

"You need to trust your instincts, Ceddy."

"My instincts tell me that the best way to keep her happy is to keep her away from me! She'll be nothing but another conquest for me. I don't -" he clenched his jaw, cutting himself off.

"You don't what?" Her voice was calm. A motherly calm. An offensive calm. Cedric refused to reply, pointedly staring down at his glass and swirling the liquid around when his mother supplied, "you don't deserve her?"

Cedric grunted. He could feel her eyes on him and he just _knew_ that they were smug with his inadvertent confession.

The cuckoo clock on the mantle chimed, interrupting Cedric's brooding. A bird the size of large marble popped out of the door and flew freely around the room singing "seven, seven, seven o'clock!" before returning to its clock-house.

"Finish your drink, Ceddy." His mother broke the silence the bird left behind. The smug look Cedric _knew_ was in her eyes had leaked down into her voice. "I know you want to be away before your father comes home."

Cedric did as she bid in silence, barely able to restrain himself from petulantly crossing his arms. His mother walked him to the door a few minutes later, reaching up to cup his face with her hands.

"At some point, and sooner than you think, you will no longer be Sofia's Master and there will be no easy excuse to spend time with her. She'll get married off to some nobleman. Or she'll take on a roll as an ambassador and leave Enchancia. You must think about what you want, Ceddy dear. Think about what's important to you."

He opened his mouth to respond but she cut him off, tapping her finger on his lips.

"Tut tut tut. You need to hurry back. That pocket watch of yours will chime in less than twenty minutes and you need to make your way home." She kissed both of his cheeks, Cedric half-heartedly returning the gesture before she pushed him out the door.

It wasn't until he was back within the confines of his tower that Cedric realized he had forgotten the potion ingredient from his mother. Again. He stomped down the steps into his study. Candles flickered to life with an absent wave of his hand. He collapsed into his chair, pouting as he pulled a book into his lap and opened to where he had last left off. He read the same paragraph approximately eighteen times before he gave up and shut the book, staring instead at the cold ashes in the hearth.

Cedric knew he had a terrible habit of wanting things he couldn't have. He had once come so close to ruling Enchancia and had given it up for the friendship of one girl. One person. His personal sacrifice had cemented a lifelong relationship with Sofia but it had also robbed him of what he knew, deep in his bones, that he deserved: rulership, respect, reverence. Cedric had only considered power and strength as avenues to feel that his life had meaning and purpose. But, he begrudgingly admitted to himself, his mother was more often right than she was wrong. She could be right about this, too. Perhaps there was another way.

Perhaps.

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 **A/N: Um, hello 5.4k words. You got out of hand. But each scene here needed to be in** _ **this**_ **chapter. I apologize for the long delay between posting chapters - the holidays really suck the creativity right out of me. But I am so excited to get the ball rolling on this story again! The next chapter is written and already with my beta.**

 **Thank you, as always, for your reads and reviews. Happy Weekend!**


	13. Chapter 13

Give Me Your Riches: Chapter Thirteen

"Pssst!"

Roland felt a hand insistently shaking his shoulder. He groaned and tried to ignore it, his head spinning.

"Pssst!" The voice, a girl's, urged him again. "Roland, wake up! You're going to miss the Anthem and Father walking in. Even _I_ know to pay attention for that part." Roland slowly brought his weary eyes open. Bright green eyes, a near reflection of his own, stared back at him from the face of Duchess Matilda, but as a girl. She tilted her head to the side in concern. "Are you feeling alright, baby brother? You usually love this courtly stuff."

Roland shut his eyes tightly. Was...was the _Duchess Matilda_ somehow a child and calling him brother? He opened his eyes again and she was still there, her head now tilted to the other side. Roland blinked several times and tried to take in the world around him.

He was sitting in a straight-backed chair with a plush cushion. He looked down at his hands and found them much smaller than they should be. Roland dazedly ran a hand through his hair and then touched his clothes. No longer was he garbed in his dirt encrusted gardener's attire. He was dressed in finery that was befitting of a king: a velvet doublet in rich blue with golden buttons, knickerbockers with silk socks and well-shined shoes to match. The fabric was impossibly soft against his skin. He looked past Matilda's head to see a room he could have only imagined in his wildest dreams. He was in an ornate ballroom filled with people in finery that, despite their prosperous appearances, paled in comparison to his own. All eyes looked expectantly to the grand double doors as trumpets began the introduction of the Enchancian National Anthem, the only familiar thing about this entire scenario.

"From the silver, flying horses," a singer crooned somewhere beside the trumpets, her voice magically enhanced to fill the room. The impossibly-young Matilda grabbed Roland by the collar of his shirt and pulled him up to his feet. A purple jewel hanging on a silver necklace around her neck caught his attention. Wasn't that the same jewel King Cedric wore? The double doors swung open and, like a ghost of the past come back to flesh, Roland's namesake, King Roland the First, entered.

"Of the ever golden glades.  
To the dragons on the cliff tops  
Of the Blazing Palisades.  
Enchancia, Enchancia  
Come hear our humble call.  
Enchancia, Enchancia  
A land for one and all."

There was a brief musical interlude between verses. Roland looked to Matilda and his confusion overcame his nerves at speaking to the little royal. "But -" He stopped speaking briefly, startled, and cleared his throat. His voice wasn't his own. Well, it _was_ his voice but it was his voice before he had reached adolescence. "B-but Roland the First - he's dead. King Cedric the Great rules in Enchancia."

Roland was answered by a barely-suppressed peal of giggles. "You picked a weird time to play a game, Ro-ro."

The singer continued before Roland could respond.

"Where the valiant knights protect us  
From the darkest evil spells.  
And your wishes all come true here  
If they're made in wishing wells."

Roland couldn't contain himself and he spoke under his breath to the girl.

"That's wrong! That's not how it goes - it's 'where the noble knights protect us from our foes, both near and far. And your wishes can come true here if you wish upon a star.' Not-not-not anything about a...a wishing well…." He trailed off into stunned silence as his mind spun.

"Wiz-bang! I can't believe you actually want to play a game." Matilda was practically buzzing with excitement as the anthem came to an end. "Okay, so Cedric is King and the anthem lyrics are different. Great. Am I still your sister? Ooo! I can be the Bouncing Bear of the Badlands and Cordelia can be the damsel! Just let me go get my pogo stick and then I'll capture Cordelia and you and Cedric can vanquish me. I'll be right back!" She slipped behind her own straight-backed chair and snuck away as the song concluded and King Roland started toward the dais of thrones.

The wishing well. The damned wishing well had...had what? It had granted his wish? But Roland had wished for his life to change, not to go back in time. The well seemed to have a mind of its own, disregarding Roland's wish and taking him back to a childhood that wasn't his and then inserting a little quip about itself in the National Anthem to...to forever remind Roland of exactly what had happened.

" _But was does that make me? And where does that leave King Cedric?"_

"Where has your sister run off to, Roland?" King Roland said with an exasperated sigh that came from fathering an unruly daughter. Roland the lesser, deep in thought, ignored the question. "Son?"

"Yes, father?" he responded and then blinked in surprise. The words had rolled off his tongue as if he had always said them, as if he had always known King Roland the First to be his true father. Roland's mother had named him after the King in a moment of pure adulation. King Roland the First had been a good King and Roland's mother had hoped her son might emulate such a man. His mother had died shortly after the King, the year Roland turned thirteen. He always wondered if it was the death of Roland the First that had sent his mother to a premature grave. But now, Roland was looking up at the man who was, apparently, his new, real father and felt awash with the same adulation his mother had held for the old King, now very much alive.

It was a strange phenomenon. Roland was conscious of his original past .He knew what it was to be a peasant under the rule of a tyrant King. He knew what it was to love Ceres and their children. But, at the same time, he was quickly coming to know memories of living in the castle, life as a Prince, love for his older sister Matilda who shared his eyes, and love for his father, Roland the First.

Roland felt his face pale and his stomach tie itself into knots. _Ceres. Their children_. Where was Ceres?! And the twins, they must not exist... Oh gods above and below, what had he done?! A rising panic tightened his chest and Roland felt light headed as he sat back in his chair - his _throne_. In a moment of ignorance, he had washed away the existence of his own children. The chance to watch them grow to run and play had been unceremoniously ripped away from Roland. He had wanted a chance to make things better with Ceres, to make better for their family, but not at the cost of the lives of his children.

King Roland looked down at his son, kind concern crossing his features. He raised an arm to hail a nearby servant. A tall, thin man in a pristine uniform came over. "Baileywick, could you fetch the Prince some water? And keep an eye out for the Princess, would you?"

"At once, sire," he said with a precise bow. He waved a hand and another servant with a tray of goblets came over, proffering it Prince Roland as Baileywick hurried off, eyes searching the ballroom for Matilda.

Roland took a goblet and drank down the water gratefully. He calmed himself by watching couples dance around the ballroom and eavesdropping on adult conversations while he acclimated to the world he had been shoved into. He was a Prince, he told himself, which meant he had virtually unlimited means. He quickly decided to use those means to find Ceres. Be she peasant or royal in this new world, it wouldn't matter. Roland loved her and would bide his time until he could marry her again. That would, eventually, bring about the twins and his family would be whole again.

In the world Roland had known as a gardener, King Roland the First had a brother, Goodwin the Great, who served Roland the First as Royal Sorcerer of Enchancia. King Roland had a daughter, Matilda, and Goodwin the Great had a daughter, Cordelia, and a son, Cedric. Matilda had abdicated the throne soon after her father's death. Goodwin had no interest in ruling and neither did his daughter Cordelia. So the rulership of Enchancia fell to Cedric while he was still a boy. His rule was initially shepherded by his parents. They indulged his every whim, leading King Cedric the Great to be spoiled and demanding with unrealistic expectations of his servants and people.

This new world in which Roland was a Prince was fresh and full of possibility. The well had allowed for significant differences, which Roland learned through his eavesdropping and an unconscious delve into his new memories.

King Roland the First and Goodwin the Great were not brothers, not here. Goodwin merely served as Royal Sorcerer, leaving Cedric with no claim to the throne. The well had also arranged for Roland the First to have a son. Roland the gardener-now-child was that son. This meant that if Matilda abdicated the throne again, Roland would be next in line to rule. All Roland would need to do would be to ensure that there was no possibility of Cedric rising to any level of real power and Roland's world, his Kingdom, and his wife would be safely his. All of them properly protected and provided for. Roland just needed to find Cedric and see him suffer. It wouldn't be enough for Cedric to simply not be in power, not if Cedric didn't also remember the world Roland had known.

But the well had thought of that too. This was a Sorcerer's Ball, after all. After regaining his composure, Prince Roland was encouraged by his father to mingle amongst the guests while his sister was chastised for her less than Royal behavior of hopping around the ballroom on a pogo stick. Prince Roland's eyes were rarely engaged in his conversations as he searched for the man who ruined his life.

The girl of the hour, Cordelia, made her entrance and a pint-sized version of the man Roland had only ever seen from a distance walked out behind her. Young Cedric raised a potion high into the air and then tilted it, drops falling to the ground, surrounding the young sorceress in an impressive smoke. Roland immediately cringed, feeling foolish for searching for an adult Cedric and hoping this child Cedric wouldn't notice him.

But as the smoke cleared and Cordelia was revealed to have spiked green hair, Roland couldn't help his immediate guffaw. He covered his mouth, turning red with embarrassment. But everyone around him started laughing. And then they started admonishing not poor Cordelia's hair, but the boy who caused it to happen. Cedric's hair had taken a hit as well, the front bangs gray in contrast to his naturally dark hair color but that didn't matter amongst the verbal whiplash centered around what was clearly his mistake.

Cedric was admonished, judged, and humiliated by the entire magical community present at the ball for the daughter of Goodwin the Great. Goodwin himself seemed more concerned with saving face against his son's failure. He stuck his nose in the air and spoke about having a word with Cedric's instructors at Hexley Hall; they obviously were being too soft on the boy. He clearly needed much more work seeing as how he was such an embarrassment to the family.

Roland indulged a grin as he watched Cedric get beaten down and blamed. History was changing, alright. And Roland was here to watch it happen, reveling in every vicious word.

 **A/N:  
It's been over a year. Sorry, friends. Pregnancy zaps my creative energy and the result of said pregnancy, my newest little love, doesn't accept bottles so my time (and sanity) has been in very short supply.**

 **This story is still alive and I know how it ends (and have much of it mapped out). But I can't promise any kind of secure update schedule yet. Hopefully a new chapter by the end of March at the latest, but we shall see. I'm projecting about 6 more chapters.**

 **Also! I haven't watched any of the latest season. My youngest is too little for TV and Sofia has fallen out of vogue with my oldest and I just can't bring myself to watch the series alone in my very limited free time. So! Forgive me any cannon violations that came along with the last season (I think the biggest one is whatever went down with Wormwood? Because Wormwood is still with Cedric in this story, though I've rarely addressed it).**

 **This entire chapter takes place during the StF Episode "Through the Looking Back Glass"**

 **The lyrics for the Enchancian National Anthem are taken directly from the show.**


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